


Heart In Chains

by chubbychoco



Category: Marvel (Movies), The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Prison, Drugs, M/M, Major Character Injury, Masturbation, Pillow & Blanket Forts, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-03
Updated: 2013-03-23
Packaged: 2017-11-17 15:57:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 22,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/553305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chubbychoco/pseuds/chubbychoco
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A horrible misunderstanding with an undercover cop leaves Steve Rogers flat on his ass in prison…where he soon attracts the attention of the pen’s most dangerous, intelligent, and - unfortunately - attractive inmate, Tony Stark.  The thing is, the more his fellow inmates warn him to keep away, the more fascinated with Tony he becomes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Steve tugged self-consciously at his new clothes, wondering how exactly this had happened.  Well, no.  That wasn’t entirely accurate; he knew  _exactly_  how this had happened.  He’d picked up the wrong suitcase at an airport terminal…and not realizing what exactly he had, he’d gotten into it with a rather pushy man on the escalator.

And the man had been an undercover cop.

And the suitcase was full of drugs.

And Steve, for the life of him, couldn’t make the judge and jury believe that he had no idea why the suitcase was full of dangerously powerful methamphetamines.  Or, for that matter, how it had gone through airport security without being detected.

Three miserable court dates and one loss of his job later, he’d been transported to a mid-level security prison.  High-level prisons, his escort had explained, were reserved for  _violent_ drug traffickers and those on a similar level, which he was not.  The compound seemed halfway between a college campus and a hospital, but with lots more barbed wire.  And guards.

Steve sighed and followed the guard to the room that would be his home for the next twenty-seven years.  The next two, almost three, decades of his life would be spent behind bars.  Damn it, if he ever found out who the jackass was that -

“Hey, new guy.”

Steve’s eyes darted over to the source of the voice with obvious fear.  Inmates were eyeing him already?  He was dead meat.  Sure, he was ripped - maybe that would deter some of them - but ultimately, Steve hadn’t spent his life beating kids up.  Actually, he’d usually been on the  _other_ end of the fists.  The owner of the voice, a shorter man with wild black hair and wire-rimmed glasses, smiled at him.  “Oh, boy.  You don’t want to look around with that kind of face, buddy.  Stark will eat you  _alive._ ”

The guard looked over with a grunt.  “Stop trying to scare him, Bruce.”  He gestured to the cell across from Steve’s new…friend?  “This is where you’ll be staying, Rogers.  Mandatory cell time is from eleven at night to six in the morning.  Head count times will be announced in the mornings over breakfast; be sure you are present for each of them.  If you miss the announcement, they’ll be posted in the daily bulletin.  You have three meals and a snack per day; they’re checked off on your prisoner identification card, and they don’t roll over into the next day.  Meals cannot be traded for goods or services.  Fighting is prohibited except in the gymnasium, and then only under strict observation and with the proper equipment.  If there’s anything else you need to know, I’m sure one of the other guards or Bruce can fill you in.”

“Bruce?” Steve asked nervously, flicking his eyes over to him.  He didn’t want to ask an inmate for information.  He was scared.

“He doesn’t bite, Rogers.”  The guard shook his head as if fed up, then left without another word.  Steve cast a fearful look over at his neighbor, who was sitting cross-legged on his bed reading a book on different kinds of radiation.  Though the prisoners were free to do as they wished right now, Steve found himself comfortable in his cell.  He was safe in here.  And Bruce seemed disinclined to leave as well, so it was probably scary as hell out there.

Bruce caught him looking and smirked.  “I told you - you’re going to want to put on a tougher face.  Stark loves guys like you.  He’ll have you in his cell overnight if he sees that puppy-dog expression.”

Steve shook his head.  “Who is Stark?”

Bruce laughed.  “Oh, man.  I do  _not_  miss being the new guy here.”  Bruce stood and walked over to his cell, waiting politely at the door until Steve ushered him in.  Well, that was a nice gesture, anyway.  Maybe not all of the inmates here were the beasts he feared they would be.  “I’m Bruce Banner.  So, Rogers, right?  What are you in for?”

Steve buried his face in one hand.  “A horrible misunderstanding,” he said.  His conversation partner snorted as if he did not believe him.  “And you?”

“No misunderstanding, that’s for sure.  Guilty as charged.  I was trying to recreate a drug they used back in the forties.  This stuff didn’t survive past the initial testing phases, but from what I hear, their first and only subject was…well, it doesn’t really matter, does it?  I failed, and I got caught.  Bad Bruce, stupid Bruce.  Eleven years for Bruce.  Story of my life…well, the recent parts of it, anyway.”

Steve looked around.  “Is this just the drug-problem block or something?”

“Oh, you’re in for drugs too, eh?”

“Yes, but they weren’t mine.”

“They never are,” Bruce laughed.  “And no, it’s not.  That would just be asking for trouble.  But backtracking here, you were asking about Stark.”  When Steve nodded, he shook his head.  “He’s my friend, but I’m one of the lucky ones; we just happen to have a lot in common.  As for you…you’re going to want to stay away.  Big old red flag there.  Tony Stark had the corner on the opiate market in seventeen states, all without ever leaving New York.  He was closing in on numbers eighteen and nineteen when they caught him.”

Steve frowned.  “That doesn’t seem too impressive.  I mean, I’ve read about the drug cartels in Mexico and South America, and - “

“Let me stop you there.  He didn’t have massive armies of gun-toting jerks to destroy the competition.  He didn’t rule with fear, or violence, or even threats.  He just sashayed through the streets like he owned them, paid off the right people, and watched the money pile up.”

“And no one ever tried to kill him?”

Bruce chuckled.  “Well now, I never said that.  Someone tried to blow him up once.  And the shrapnel…well, I’ll leave that one a surprise.  It’s much more interesting if you see it with your own eyes, rather than hear about it first.”

Steve nodded.  He was starting to get the feeling that Bruce, though prone to illegal activities, was ultimately a good person.  “Good to know.”  He had to admit that despite the danger factor, his curiosity was piqued.  “So…uh…on a scale of one to ten, how dangerous would it be for me to go get some food right now?”

Bruce laughed.  “You mind if I go with you?”

“Well, no, but whether or not I go depends on that scale I was asking for.”

“That depends.  If Tony isn’t out there, two.  If he is, five-point-five.  If he is, and you’re making that ‘oh-woe-is-me’ puppy-dog face, ten,” he said simply.  “Come on.  The food here is actually worth eating.  You should try their chicken marinara.”  Steve shrugged and decided to risk it.  He could use a friend, and Bruce seemed sturdy.  Plus, if he was friends with this Tony Stark, and Stark was really as bad as Bruce made him sound…well, in that aspect, prison would be like the office:  connections, good.  Being reclusive, bad.

The way to the mess hall was clearly marked, and the more Steve moved through the hallways, the more he realized his fears ran unnecessarily deep.  Sure, some of the inmates looked dangerous, and Bruce softly murmured which to avoid and which to make friends with; who could supply him with treats from outside the penitentiary walls and who could destroy his life so that there was nothing left when he left them.  It wasn’t actually all that much to take in, though.  Most people were average nobodies like him, only there because they’d made stupid choices.  The harder criminals, Bruce explained, were kept in a completely different part of the prison, or else shipped to higher security ones.

The mess hall smelled divine.  The chefs were hardly afraid of spices, and Steve could isolate sage, pepper, and cilantro out of the many scents in the air.  Prisoners sat around enjoying plates of delicious-looking food, some laughing as if they weren’t incarcerated.  Steve blinked in shock.  This didn’t look like a mid-security prison.  It looked like high school, but full of adults.

Bruce laughed.  “Okay, the tourist expression isn’t any more helpful than your sad face.”

“I can’t help it,” Steve said.  “I thought it would be…”

“…a miserable cesspool of humankind’s living refuse?”

“Well…” Steve said with a nervous chuckle.  “Yeah.”

“I get it.  Hollywood’s interpretation of prison is pretty ugly.  But truth be told, location is everything.  We’re not in Compton, the guards are pretty friendly, and we have plenty of incentives to behave ourselves.  They reward us collectively for good behavior, and most of us have the sense not to screw that up for everyone.”  Bruce smirked.  “Because if they did,  _then_  they’d have problems.  Come on, Rogers.  Let’s get some food.”

The moment they were seated, Steve ate with gusto.  Stress always made him hungry, and he polished off his chicken and breadsticks before Bruce had even made it through half.  They traded idle banter, and as another inmate sat down beside them, Bruce introduced Clint Barton.  He had, apparently, been arrested for shooting arrows through parking meters.

“I’m not sorry,” Clint said with a wicked grin.  Steve was instantly comfortable with him.  “I’ve only got a year to go.  It would have been a shorter sentence, but they slapped on assault with a deadly weapon and reckless endangerment…which is stupid, because no one was around.”

“Obviously  _someone_ was, Cupid, because they called the cops on you,” Bruce pointed out, gesturing to him with his fork.

“Don’t call me Cupid,” Clint said, offering him a scowl.

“Who still uses a bow and arrow?”

“I can’t help it.  Rifles are badly sighted for me, and I see better from a distance.”  Suddenly, Clint’s eyes darted up and his face darkened.  “Speaking of seeing better from a distance, I’m going to put some feet between me and the Sector G-through-K entryway.  Tell the führer I say hi, Brucey.”

Bruce’s eyes widened.  “Oh, damn.  Has he seen Rogers yet?”

“He’s seen you.  I’m not sticking around to find out anything more.  Later, man.”  Steve felt horribly uncomfortable as Clint departed with obvious haste.  It wasn’t fast enough to be insulting, but it was definitely not the mild clip he had sauntered over on.  Steve felt his gut twist.

“Is it Stark?”

“Yeah, it’s Stark.  You might want to join Clint before he - “

Too late.  Steve could feel a powerful gaze settle on him like a lead weight.  Until that moment, he had never understood the idea of feeling someone look at you, but there it was - real and thick and very nearly tangible.  He felt as if it could  _choke_ him if he breathed it in.  There was something electrifying against his shoulders, and almost against his own will, Steve turned to see the infamous Tony Stark.

The man stood at the top of the entryway stairs, flanked by a prim-looking woman with tight-pulled strawberry blonde hair.  And while the woman - Pepper Potts, Bruce whispered - seemed to command respect without speaking, Stark was…

… _oy._

He stood shorter than the other inmates, but they moved aside for him nonetheless.  Dark hair was slicked back in an almost lazy style, taut muscle stood out in smooth contrast without blatantly displaying its might, and under his shirt…well, aside from what could only be hard-carved pectorals and abdominals, there was a glowing blue circle of light.

“What is that?” Steve asked in wonder.

Bruce was shaking him.  “Look away.  Look away, Steve, damn it, look aw - too late.”

And then those eyes, like oil with a sheen of gunmetal, locked with his.  Steve could feel his heart plummet…and a wave of heat rushed through his body.  It was an interesting combination.

Bruce patted him on the shoulder.  “Nice knowing you.”

 

* * *

 

“Pepper, who’s that?” Tony asked, staring down the stairs at the sandy head of hair sitting next to his favorite inmate. “I don’t recognize him.”

Pepper flicked her eyes over.  “Steven Rogers, admitted today.  Ex-military, arrested for carting methamphetamines through an airport, squeaky clean criminal record until then.  Media coverage portrayed him as falsely accused, and I, for one, am inclined to agree.  Unfortunately for him, the court was not.”  No one knew how she knew these things immediately, not even Stark.  Rumors flew in abundance, but in reality, her secret was rather mundane - she traded prisoner information for promises.  Nothing sexual; Pepper Potts was no whore.  But she knew things that could easily get the guards fired, and for that, they offered her information whenever she asked for it…as long as she promised to keep their dirty laundry to herself.

“Is that so?” Tony mused, allowing the full attention of his gaze to settle on the man in question.  He could see him shift, and that guy who was arrested for pulling a medieval Cool-Hand Luke left the table when he saw him coming.  What was his name..?  Clark?  No, Clint.  Stark didn’t know why Clint avoided him so much; he’d never seen any reason to cause their resident Robin Hood any problems, after all.  “You think Bruce has warned him about me?”

“I’m sure he has,” Pepper said, hiding a smile behind one hand.

“Well, that would be rude of him,” Tony said.  “I’d better go introduce myself, eh?  Set the record straight.”  He started heading down the high-railed stairs that led down from his cell block…and then Steven turned around, and their eyes met, and Tony felt such a rush of desire that he almost had to sit.

Those shiny blues held such innocence, such vulnerability, there was no way he was a criminal.  Tony knew.  He’d seen plenty of eyes in his lifetime:  some good, some bad, some innocent, some downright evil.  This man was as dangerous as a kitten - able to scratch and bite, but not much else.

And  _damn,_  Tony wanted to be scratched and bitten.  Especially with legs like that locked around his hips and those blameless eyes squeezed shut with ecstasy.  Interest was doing much more than twitching in his groin; it had already made definite demands, and he was about to turn to Pepper and demand that she help reel him in, but his leading lady was already reading his mind.

“Maybe you can give him some time to cool his heels?  He hasn’t even been in here for twenty-four hours.”

“Pepper, Pepper, Pepper,” Tony said, clicking his tongue and shaking his head.  “My sweet, silly Miss Potts.  That’s when they’re the most vulnerable.”

Pepper raised an eyebrow.  “Let me rephrase that:  I am not getting him in your cell tonight.”

“You don’t have to,” Tony said with a wicked smirk.  “I think I can handle this one all on my own.”  And with that, he finished walking down the stairs and sauntered over to the table.  His best friend and his new boyfriend all in one trip.

Efficiency, baby.  That was how you ruled an empire.  Prison and a drug cartel really weren’t all that different in that respect.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Steve's interest starts to outweigh his trepidation.

“Well, hello there.”

Oh, goodness.  He was heading over, that striking and intimidating woman in tow.  Those two made a terrifying, stunning pair, and Tony was  _speaking_ to him.  Steve’s mouth worked uselessly for a moment before he snapped himself together and smiled.  “Hello.”

Tony held out an immaculately clean hand, and Steve could barely think past the fog in his brain to shake it.  He was amazing.  He captivated Steve’s attention unyieldingly, and even though Steve knew he should be afraid, he felt…warm.  Relaxed.  “I’m Tony Stark.  This wonderful woman glued to my hip is Pepper Potts.”  He leaned closer and said in a charming stage whisper, “Blatant hero worship.  She couldn’t function without me.”

Bruce chuckled.  “Don’t believe him, Steve.  Pepper owns shares of his brain;  _Tony_ couldn’t function without  _her_.”

“Slander,” Tony said as he sat down beside Bruce.  “I’m kidding, Pepper.  You know I’m a mess without you cataloguing my thoughts.”

“Yes, I do,” Pepper said shamelessly.  “But I’m also given to understand that you proud types need your assistants to regularly feed your egos, or you wither like a plant that no one has watered.”

 Tony looked back and forth between them and pursed his lips.  “Stop trying to make me look bad in front of the new guy, you two.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Steve said, finally remembering how to make conversation.  “Bruce has been telling me you’re the big man on campus.  I didn’t make a habit of stepping on toes outside, and I don’t intend to start now.”

Pepper raised one eyebrow.  “Smart, but don’t let people walk all over you, either.  There are men here that would make a fast meal out of someone who won’t stand up for themselves.”  Steve missed the sneering glower Tony shot her because he was taking a drink, but Bruce didn’t.  He quickly hid behind his own cup.

“That’s just like the world outside, though,” Steve panted after setting down his water.  “Know who to avoid, know who to pander to.  Although I do have to wonder…”  He looked curiously between Pepper, Tony, and Bruce.  “What does it mean here when you say you’ll ‘eat someone alive?’  Does that mean I get beaten senseless or something?”

Tony nearly choked on his hamburger when he laughed.  What an adorable, clueless little piece of ass Steve was.

Bruce looked up with uncomfortable honesty.  “Uh, no.  It generally means they’ll make you their prison boyfriend.”  When Steve’s eyes widened, he shrugged.  “Which is usually why people try to warn you about things like that.”

And just like that, the atmosphere around the table grew tight and thin, like a rubber band ready to snap.

Steve locked eyes with Tony, and he realized just how loaded this situation was.  He’d assumed Tony was going to beat the tar out of him, not…oh, jeez, did the guards even allow that?  It didn’t seem very likely.  Steve had been attracted to men long before he was arrested, and Tony commanded a lot of attention, but he barely knew him.  In fact, all he knew was that he was charming, handsome, and a successful criminal.  Well, successful up until recently, anyway.

But Tony seemed like the kind of man who could smell arousal a mile away, and Steve would be lying if he said he wasn’t wondering what the dark-haired man looked like beneath that shirt.

_No, no, no.  You aren’t letting him anywhere near you.  Bruce warned you to stay away from him, S_ teve thought to himself.  But…wait.  Maybe Bruce only warned him because he was worried that Tony would  _rape_  him.  If he knew that it would be consensual, would he still sing the same tune?   _Maybe…get to know him first.  I mean, he never killed or maimed anyone.  Bruce said he ran his empire peacefully._

Then he looked back at Bruce and remembered that no matter how charming a man Tony Stark was, he was a criminal.  And spontaneous, shameless sex was not a good way to work out one’s fears and frustrations.  

It took Steve a moment to realize that Tony didn’t look too happy with what Bruce had just said.

“Noted.  So, keep away from people like that, right?” Steve asked innocently.  He had the distinct feeling that if Tony knew Bruce had tried to steer him away, the two of them might not be friends any more.  In a very bad way.  “Bruce hasn’t given me much information there.  Maybe you can be a little more helpful?”

He could feel the tension drain away like someone had pulled a plug.  Tony laughed and nudged Bruce’s shoulder.  “You’re an asshole, Bruce.  You trying to get this poor man raped?”

Bruce chuckled.  “I just hadn’t gotten around to it yet.  I’ve been telling him who the dangerous ones are, but so far, there’s none I’m aware of that would see his backside as a target.”

“Wade might.”

“Ehh.”  He turned to Steve and offered, “Wade’s…different.  His brain is like a landfill; poke around long enough and you’re bound to stir up  _something_  you’d rather not.  But I think he’s interested in the Parker kid right now.”

“Could you sound any more like a circle of gossiping old ladies?” Pepper asked in obvious exasperation.  “Mister Stark, I need to go get my daily information fill from LaCroix.  Can I trust you to behave yourself while I’m gone?”

Tony’s brown eyes widened in faux innocence.  “Why, Pepper, when do I ever do anything but?”

“Don’t even start,” Pepper said before turning and waving over one shoulder.  “See you later, Bruce.  It was nice meeting you, Mister Rogers.”

“Steve,” he said.  “Just call me Steve.”

She stopped to smile at him.  “Noted.  I suppose I’ll be seeing you around?”

“Sure!” he said happily before turning back to his meal.  He was almost finished with it.  “Okay, I’m confused.  If you’re the man in charge, how can she talk to you that way?”

After he had swallowed a mouthful of food, Tony laughed.  “Because I’d be a wreck without her.  See, we all share a mess hall, but ultimately, this prison is gender-separated.  And unlike her, I’m not very good at getting information from people.  It would be hard enough finding out things about the men, but the women?  Forget about it.  So every mealtime, we meet up, and she fills me in on the things I need to know.  Plus, she keeps track of who’s mad at me, who’s after my attention…she even manages press somehow.”

“Sounds like quite a woman,” Steve said, not even bothering to hide how impressed he was.

“She really is.  I don’t know how the hell she does it.”  Tony wiped his mouth with the back of one hand, eliciting a subtle eye-roll from Bruce.  “Going to cry about my table etiquette, Bruce?  I’ve got a better idea:  rather than sit here like Miss Manners, why don’t you join me on the basketball court at three, and we’ll play a round of Horse?”

Bruce shrugged.  “I guess.  You know I don’t like basketball.”

“Oh, come on.  This is Horse.  It’s barely even basketball.”

“Fine, fine.  Three o’clock.  I’ll be there.”

Tony nodded and took two steps away before turning and saying smoothly, “Steve, why don’t you come along?  I’ll show you around the yard.”

“Sure,” Steve said before thinking.  “I could use a guide.  The guard wasn’t very helpful.”

Tony waved at both of them before heading away.  As soon as he was out of earshot, Bruce sighed and ran a hand through his hair.  “Thanks for keeping me out of trouble.”

“Not a problem.  I got the feeling that Tony wouldn’t have appreciated you telling me to keep away from him.”

“No.  No, he would not have.”  Bruce sighed and leaned back.  “Damn it, look at you.  Steve, you’re a nice guy.  I can tell.  Please tell me you’re not attracted to him.  You’d have better luck with something less hazardous.  Like a great white.”

Steve cleared his throat uncomfortably.  “Well…I mean, he is handsome.”

“Steve, I don’t think you understand,” Bruce said, his voice barely concealing an exasperated groan.

“I get it, you’re worried he’ll…force me.  But if I go along with him willingly, you’re saying he wouldn’t take his time?”

Bruce sighed.  “Of course he would.  Tony’s a scientific genius.  I mean, his first experiments with opium were all his.  No recipes, no how-to book, nothing.  And that’s just the beginning; that thing in his chest is - ugh, I’m getting off-topic.  Look, scientists are used to having to wait; delayed gratification is a way of life for us.  But once he has you, you’ll be  _his._   And you’ll suffer the consequences if you decide to fight that.”

Steve shifted.  “That’s ridiculous.  I’m not an object.”

“That’s  _prison._   What, you think just because this place isn’t hell on earth, that at least some of those TV stereotypes aren’t true?  If you get with Tony, even once, you’re his woman.  His bitch.  His punk, his prag, whatever you want to call it.”

Steve could feel his stomach churning.  “You mean…he’ll try to kill me or something if I try to leave?”

Bruce scoffed.  “He wouldn’t need to.  He’d let you go, probably find a new plaything.  But once you’ve been owned by Tony Stark, you’re public property.  Marked as a weakling; an easy target.  A man who’s been the receptive partner during intercourse is seen as less masculine, and thereby a target for other people.  Either rape, or other kinds of violence.  And unlike Tony, some people here won’t hesitate to hurt you.”

Steve felt like he was going to throw up.  “I…I think I want to go back to my cell.”  How had he grown comfortable so quickly?  Bruce and Clint had made him feel so welcome; he had very nearly forgotten just what kind of a place this was.  Then again, he had always been naïve…

“Are you always this quick to trust people?” Bruce asked with a sigh.

Steve gave him a long look.  “…I once gave a mugger my wallet.  It took me five minutes to realize I’d been mugged.”

Bruce flinched.  “Tell me you made that up.”

“I’ll let you decide.”

“For the love of…”  He sighed again.  “Come on.  Back to your cell.  Basketball at three o’clock, remember?  You told him you’d be there.”

“I know.”  Steve sighed and headed back to his cell.  Each year was going to feel like ten if every day went like this.

 

* * *

 

That night, Steve stood beneath the lukewarm spray of the communal showers, feeling very exposed with nothing more than a flimsy blue-gray curtain between him and the world outside.  Still, nobody had poked their heads in, and the only other inmates that were bathing were on the other end of the room, so all in all, he wasn’t feeling as bad as he could.

He had eventually joined Bruce in a two-versus-one game against Tony, and the two of them working together had destroyed him.  When they related the event to Pepper over dinner, she had made a sweet-tart comment about Tony’s bruised self-esteem.  He’d simply laughed and drank his water.

But Steve had not felt any less threatened throughout the course of the day.  In fact, since his conversation with Bruce, he’d been on edge.  He really was too trusting.  This was a terrible environment for him if, in fact, everyone wanted something from him.  And according to Bruce, everyone did - respect, sex, a punching bag, belongings -

“That you, Steve?  Bruce said you’d be in here.”

_Good grief._

Steve almost yelped as a dim blue glow lit the fabric stall beside him.  He could just barely make out the outline of the ring in Tony’s chest.  He managed to keep himself calm, though, and responded with a suave, “Are you following me, Mister Stark?  Some people might think that’s creepy.”

“Call me Tony.  And no; I just needed a shower.  It’s always less crowded at night because everyone’s worried about being late for their mandatory bunk time.”  The water hissed through the shower head beside Steve, and he felt his chest tighten uncomfortably.  No matter how frightening the prospect of being property was, the idea of Tony naked appealed to him.  He just had to keep it to himself.  “How’d your first day go?”

“I was terrified, then relaxed, then terrified again.  I’m a bit afraid to go to sleep.”

Tony laughed.  “Relaxed?  How the hell did you manage to relax in  _prison?_ ”

“I have no idea,” Steve lied.  “But I did.  And then I remembered where I am, I guess.”

“You shouldn’t have problems as long as you don’t piss anyone off.  You’re the kind of guy that most people are willing to just let glide through their sentence without a fuss.”  The glow flickered as Tony washed his chest, and Steve felt the question rise from him unbidden.

“What is that thing in your chest?” Seconds after it left his mouth, he realized what an invasive question that was.  Fortunately, Tony didn’t seem to mind.

“Oh, the reactor?”

“If that’s what you call it.”

“I do.  It’s an arc reactor, one of the world’s only forms of truly clean energy.  And it’s keeping me alive.”  He paused for a bit of dramatic tension (which worked quite well, as Steve almost peeked around the curtain to stare at him with wide, horrified eyes), then continued, “When I still headed up my empire o’ opiates, I was liked by almost everyone.  The problem is, ‘almost’ doesn’t cut it when the people that  _don’t_  like you want you dead.  Someone hooked my car up to a bomb, and I didn’t figure it out until I woke up in one of my enemy’s safehouses with an electromagnet in my chest.  The initial blast didn’t kill me, but a bunch of shrapnel embedded itself in my chest.  The electromagnet was keeping it from working its way into my heart.  See, they planned on killing me, but when I survived, they decided to torture me for the locations of my shipments.  They were hoping to integrate my empire.  It would be clean, fast, and the drug community would forget I ever existed.”

Steve didn’t realize he’d been holding his breath.  “How did you get away?”

“Ah, that’s the fun part.  I told them that I hid my shipments in a bunch of useless look-alike crates, and that in order to lead them to the real deal, they needed a device that only I could make.  It would be less time-consuming than testing every case individually, so they threw a bunch of scientific gewgaws at me.  I took them apart, and I decided to replace the disgustingly heavy electromagnet which kept me pinned to my bed.  That replacement was, and is, the arc reactor embedded in my chest.  It took less than a day to fit it.”  Steve could hear him hold his breath as he rinsed his head off, and then he continued.  “Once I was mobile again, I knocked out one of the people that brought me my food, changed into his clothes, shaved, then left as if I weren’t even a prisoner.  They’re probably still wondering how they didn’t see it coming.”

Steve took a moment to appreciate its genius simplicity, then said, “You’re a lucky man.”

“Wrong.  If I were lucky, I wouldn’t be in prison.”

Steve had to chuckle at that.

A moment of still, calm silence followed.  Steve finished scrubbing himself, and right as he was about to step out of the shower, Tony said kindly, “You know, Steve…I know you’re new here, but if Pepper’s right, you don’t deserve this.  You deserve a whole lot better after what the judge and jury put you through.  So…I don’t do this much, but you can come to me for anything.  I’m not the kind of guy who’ll leave you hanging.”

_Oh, I just bet you’re not,_  Steve thought, clinging tightly to his new understanding of the situation.   _And if I_ did  _ask you for something, Tony, what would you want from me?_   He didn’t say it out loud, though.  He wouldn’t dare.  What he said was, “Thanks, Mister St - uh, Tony.  It’s nice to know I can at least trust you and Bruce.”

“Not a problem.  Good night, Steve.”

“Good night, Tony.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Steve comes to terms with the fact that whether he likes it or not, Tony's run off with his heart. Or at least his libido.

Bruce brushed his teeth lazily, sliding a look over to Tony.  The once-unstoppable drug lord seemed frustrated today.  Frustrated and distracted.  Actually, he’d been frustrated and distracted for the past two months…and everyone knew why.  Bruce let the silence fall heavy for a moment before speaking.

“It can’t be helped.  He knows that sleeping with you is a bad idea,” Bruce said simply.  “And no matter how charming you are, he won’t soon forget that.”

Tony growled around his own toothbrush.  “He  _wants_  me.  I  _know_  he does.”

“Or maybe you’re being cocky.  You can get that way, Tony.”

“Bruce,” Tony said, pointing an angry finger at him.  “I know when people want to have sex with me.  He does.  And I know that one of the primary reasons he has not yet is that you warned him about me.  I’m not stupid - he tried to protect you by making it sound like you didn’t, and it worked for a second.  But I am  _not_  pleased with you at the moment.”

Bruce flinched.  He knew Tony was too smart to buy into that forever.  Still, mess with the bull, get the horns, and he was going to take the ivory like a man.  “He’s innocent, Tony.  Everyone knows that.  He doesn’t deserve to be turned into the prison equivalent of a blow-up doll.”

Tony reeled on Bruce like an offended rattlesnake - and the man was capable of dealing a nasty bite, metaphorically speaking.  Bruce dropped his hygiene items and took two fast steps back.  “You think I’m just going to  _use_  him?” Tony demanded angrily.  “Well, okay, I am, but you think I’m going to be an  _asshole_  about it?!  What, I’m going to get off once and then leave him to the vultures?!”

Bruce quickly regained himself, and a dangerous spark ran through his eyes.  “It’s the vultures I’m worried about,” he said softly…softly, but with definite aggression.  “You always treat your men like they’re important.  But once you get tired of them, you don’t care what happens to them, Tony.  Ever wondered?  Ever given any thought to why they avoid you after you’re done with them?”

Tony glowered.  “Not really.”

“They end up the playthings of much more dangerous people, like Logan.  Or less careful people, like Thor.  They end up hurt, or  _dead_ , or afraid to leave their new ‘owner.’  And I don’t want that happening to Steve.”  Bruce stood to his full height, about three inches above Tony, and fixed his friend in a deathly cold stare.  “And if you were any kind of decent, you wouldn’t want it to happen either.”

Tony was holding out a placating hand.  “Whoa, Bruce, whoa.  Look, I’m all for watching you lose your temper and beat the living shit out of people, but I’d rather not be the one you beat.  Can you…ah.  Back up a bit?”

Bruce shook his head.  “I want to hear your opinion on the matter first.  Then, if I like what I hear, I’ll calm down.”

Tony gulped.  He wasn’t really afraid of Bruce, not usually, but he’d seen what Bruce could do when he got angry.  That drug he’d tried to copy, whatever it was, had some… _interesting_  side effects.  “It’s not good!  I’ll look after him, okay?”

Bruce took a calculated step forward.

“I’m serious!  Even after I leave him, I swear I won’t let him end up in the hands of some asshole!  And if I do, you can beat me up like you did to that guard that one time.”

“If you’re referring to Loki, he had it coming,” Bruce said simply, leaning back.  “He struts around this place like he owns it.  I swear he thinks he’s a god.”

“Truer words were never spoken,” Tony said.  “So…do I have your permission to finish brushing my teeth?  And more importantly, to get with Steve?”  It wasn’t like Tony would have waited for Bruce to  _let_  him do anything, but not having to keep their activities secret would make life much easier.

Bruce shook his head in exasperation and turned back to his mirror.  “It’s not like you’ll wait if I tell you not to.”

“You’re damn right I won’t,” Tony affirmed with cheer.  “But I don’t want you to kill me, either.”

 

* * *

 

Two months.

Steve was learning quickly.

He knew to avoid Logan and Wade; one was always angry and the other should have been institutionalized, not imprisoned.  He knew that Thor was clumsy but good-natured, and was most likely wrongfully convicted like him (he also knew that Thor was intimately involved with one of the guards, but kept this to himself in order to preserve both their reputations).  He knew that the head of the prison, Thanos, was _not_  to be trifled with - he wasn’t afraid to get into the thick of a problem and crack the responsible skull.  And he learned that sharing this knowledge with the people who needed it made him an asset to the prisoners.

And as long as he was an asset to the prisoners, he was safe.

“Steve!  You think you could ask Tony to do me a favor?”

Steve looked over at the source of the question, Clint, and raised an eyebrow.  “I don’t know.  That kind of depends on the favor.”

“Well, you know how he has special privileges to keep Pepper around?  I was just thinking maybe he could arrange for me to meet one of the girls over in the women’s compound.  Obviously he has some sway with the guards.”

Steve chuckled.  “You wouldn’t be talking about that red-haired woman that nearly  _kills_ people when she plays volleyball?”

Clint grinned at Steve.  “Of course not.  And her name is Natasha.”

Steve couldn’t help an affectionate eye-roll.  He liked Clint; he was both set and sarcastic, and it made for fantastic conversations.  “Natasha, huh?”

“Natasha Romanoff.”

“Right.  I’ll ask him, but I’m not making any promises.”

“Hey, that’s all I’m asking for.”  Clint laughed and dropped the ball he was holding, kicking it towards the sports container.  He scowled when a guard barked at him to pick it up and put it in the bin like he was supposed to.  “It’s not hard to do, Eric,” he said.  “Try it sometime.”

“Barton, you have five seconds to get over here and put this ball in the container before you lose your privileges for the day.”

Clint snarled and did as instructed.  “So, you’ll talk to Tony?”

“I told you I would.”

“I appreciate it, Steve!”

“I know,” Steve said.  “I’m going to head inside and take a shower.  See you at dinner.”

Clint nodded.  “Unless his royal nibs is there, anyway.”

Steve chuckled as he went inside, but truthfully, in the two months he had been here, this had become a common occurrence.  People knew that he was close to Tony, even if they weren’t together, and that fact combined with his knowledge was making him quite popular.  Most people were just going through him to get to Tony…but there was something their attention was teaching him.

Even if he  _did_  sleep with Tony and become ‘public property,’ no one would dare do anything too terrible to him.  Hurting Steve Rogers was a good way to end up shanked - a young, overly excitable thief named Remy had tried, and had quickly been put in his place with a swift blow to the head.  Steve had been told not to take it too hard; Remy had been pretty upset since his mentor had been put in solitary confinement and shipped off to a psych ward.  But if Steve was under the protection of the entire cell block…

…what was stopping him from indulging in his desires?

 _Tony’s a criminal, for one,_  the sensible part of his brain quipped.   _He’s an ass.  He’ll only use you for your body…well, that reason’s sort of void, since you’ll only use him for his.  But that’s not like you, Steve._   No, it certainly was not.  Steve was not into random sexual partners, but there was something about the snarky genius that scrambled his morals…

Steve walked over to the communal showers and pulled the curtain closed behind him.  He liked his idea of prison better before Stark complicated it.  A festering hellhole where he was forced to hunker down in his cell to survive would have been a lot simpler than this.  Now he was forced to wrestle his sensibilities, torn between fear of what being with a monarch of moral impurity would do to him…and knowing what it was like to have that same monarch buried to the hilt inside of him.

A shiver ran through him at the thought.  No one ever got anywhere by thinking dirty thoughts in the shower…but damn it, he knew he wasn’t going to cave to Tony any time soon.  And his body was making demands of him that his brain was unwilling to cave to.  So maybe…

…no…

…jeez, he hadn’t done something like this since he was a teenager.

Steve leaned against the wall, under the hot spray, and swallowed hard.  His imagination wasn’t what it used to be, but he if closed his eyes and pictured that faint blue color, he could remember when Tony had been in the stall beside him…he could hear the raw sex in his voice whenever Tony started talking to him and they were alone, and it made him harder than he could ever remember being.

He let his hands trace along his legs.  The more he thought about Tony, the more convinced he was that he  _needed_  this.  His fingers danced in teasing circles around his member, and he bit his lower lip to stop himself from making noises.  He worked one hand around himself, stroking slowly while trying to keep the image of Tony in his mind.  That cold metal ring of light against his torso, his legs between his hips, his lips around his - oh,  _damn it,_  he was making himself dizzy.

“Tony,” he whispered, hoping no one could hear him over the water.  “More…”  He moved faster, gripped harder, and braced himself against the wall, trying to fight the weakening of his knees.  He used his other hand to knead the soft join of his thighs, knuckles grazing against the tight flesh of his groin.  Every pull was like a jolt of electricity through his body, and when his orgasm came, he squeezed his eyes shut and pleaded silently,  _Tony, don’t stop…keep going, right there..!_

It took him a moment to come down from his fantasy, and once he remembered where he was, he felt very cold.

Cold and alone.

The cold, admittedly, was because his hot water ration had been exhausted.  But the alone…the alone, he was a bit more worried about.  He looked at the semen trailing down his hand and clouding the water on his palm and tried to feel embarrassed, but no shame followed it.  It was probably time to admit it - he liked Tony.  Despite the obvious problems, he liked him.  These feelings weren’t going to spiral down the drain as easily as the slippery pools of white did.

But that didn’t mean he had to cave to it right away.

Steve finished his shower and calmly left the stall.  At the very least, he had to let Tony know he was open to a very slow, patient introduction to the idea of a…relationship?  Was it a relationship?  He supposed it was, albeit not a romantic one.  Sighing, he grabbed his towel and clothes, then made his way over to the changing stalls.

Yep.  Emotional conflict might have been great fun on television shows, but he was pretty fed up with it in his life.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which everyone but Tony thinks Steve has more or less signed his own death warrant.

Steve blinked at Tony, waiting for an answer.

Tony sipped his coffee, trying not to scream at his wonderful luck.

“Well?” Steve prompted.

“I’m sorry, I must have been out of it.  Repeat the question for me?”

Steve sighed and rubbed one hand over his forehead.  “It was two questions.  Question _s_ , plural.  The first was if we see each other, will you take it slowly?”

“Yes,” Tony said quickly.  Yes, he would.  He’d wait another month, another  _three_ months if he had to.  Anything to bury his face between those legs and - well, now wasn’t the time, was it?  “Question two?”

“Will you be seeing anyone else while we’re together?”

Tony raised an eyebrow.  “This is a prison relationship.  I wasn’t aware you wanted to _go steady_  with a felon.”

Steve smiled.  “I’ll take that as a ‘yes.’  In that case, you can find someone e - “

“Hey, I never said that!” Tony said, quickly standing to his feet.  “Of course I won’t be.  I mean, if it keeps you happy, I don’t have to.”  He set down his coffee and set a hand on Steve’s shoulder.  “But…I mean, Steve, you know this isn’t going to last forever, right?  I’m a convict.  You’re innocent.  People like us…I mean, this isn’t some fairy tale.”

“Good thing, too.  Fairy tales tended to end in a lot of gory, sudden death,” Steve said.  “And I know it won’t be permanent.  I just…”  The blonde sighed.  “I need to feel _normal_  while I’m in here.  I think a relationship would help with that.”

“That makes sense,” Tony said, turning his head as the room filled with catcalls.  That meant Pepper was now in.  “You know, Pepper and Bruce are going to tell you not to do it.  If they haven’t already.”

Steve grinned at him.  “I think it’s my business, not theirs.”

“And you’d be right.”  Tony leaned forward, a tempting grin on his face.  “So…about that first kiss we should have had the day I met you.”

Steve had the decency to turn slightly pink.  “What part of ‘take it slow’ do you not - “

“It’s a joke, handsome.  I joke sometimes.”  Tony let out a world-weary sigh and sat back down.  “Not that I would have minded if you’d taken the bait.”  He reached up and cupped one of Steve’s cheeks in a broad, warm palm.  The way the blonde rested his face comfortably in his hand made him grin like an idiot.  “I’m just surprised you trust me.  It’s like I just said.  You’re innocent.  Everyone thinks so.  And I am definitely  _not._ ”

“You’re not dangerous, though,” Steve said, sitting beside Tony and smiling.

Tony laughed.  It was half amused, half mocking.  “Whoever told you  _that_  is the biggest liar in the prison.  I won’t kill you, or hurt you, or even piss you off if I can help it.  But that doesn’t mean I’m not dangerous.  Oh, Steve, you still have so much to learn.”

Steve looked at him, confused and a bit irritated.  “Then teach me.”

Those words could mean so many things.  Tony rolled them around in his head for a moment and decided to save the fantasizing for the shower.  “I will, handsome, I will.  Come on; I want to show you off to Pepper.  This is going to really grind her gears; she thinks you’re like some giant teddy bear.”

Steve opened his mouth to protest, but Tony dragged him to his feet and hauled him over.  “Pepper!  You’ll never guess who just proposed to me.”

Steve’s eyes widened.  “I did  _not._ ”

“No, he didn’t, but he did ask me out.”  Tony elbowed him playfully.  “You’re the first to ask me out instead of vice-versa.”

Pepper’s voice was casual as she quipped, “Of course, Mister Stark’s idea of ‘asking someone out’ would only be considered romantic by cavemen.”  But her eyes were fixed on Steve, and it didn’t take a psychic to know what she was thinking.   _What the hell do you think you’re doing?  You missed your chance to get away._   Steve had to hold in a snort of indifference.  Let her think what she wanted.  If he’d screwed up, it would be his ass in a sling.

 _Literally,_  the sarcastic part of his brain pointed out.

Fortunately, aside from a few ‘dead man walking’ stares and mutters, the day was uneventful.  For the most part, Tony just wanted to parade him around like arm candy.  It was a bit refreshing, actually.  Steve had never been treated like he was a showroom model, but Tony couldn’t wait to saunter into a room with Steve walking calmly at his side.  They didn’t have to be holding hands for everyone to realize the change - Tony had a new boyfriend, and woe unto him.

“You know,” Steve muttered to Pepper as their mutual friend got caught up in a distraction, “I can’t help but notice that everyone’s giving me…looks.  The only thing they haven’t done yet is call in the hearse.”

“Steve, Tony is - “

“ - dangerous.  So I’ve been told.  I think we’ve figured that part out.”

Pepper sighed and shook her head.  “You think it ends here, in prison?  What if words leaks to the outside that you were involved with him?  Worse, what if he keeps liking you, even after you’re let out?  You will be irrevocably connected to Tony Stark, god of opium, and his rivals will know it.”

Steve swallowed hard.  Oh.  That one had never occurred to him.  A warning would have been nice.

“Why didn’t anyone say anything?” he demanded.

“Well, we were pretty sure your survival instincts were good enough that you’d stay away.  You were in the military, for Pete’s sake - no, not you, Peter, it’s just the expression.”  She smiled and waved away a gangly youth with bushy brown hair.  “And trust me, if Tony is half as attached to you as I think he is, they  _will_  find out.”

Steve swallowed hard and looked at Tony.  “Can’t I just plead attraction?”

“Sure.  But they won’t listen.  If they think Tony’s told you anything…”  Pepper shook her head uncomfortably.  “Steve, people will do terrible things for money.”

Steve cast a worried look up at Tony.  That certainly put a damper on things.  But when the genius came back over and nuzzled a tiny, lip-free kiss into his hair, he found his concerns taking a back seat once again.

He’d dodged some hard bullets in his life.

What was one more?

 

* * *

 

 

One more, it turned out, was going to be a pain in the ass.

“Damn it, Steve, did you not hear us warning you?”

“I’m a big boy, Bruce,” Steve said defensively.  “I think I can choose my battles on my own.  And hey, last time I checked, he’d promised to take care of me even if things turn rough.”

Bruce shifted at the thought of the conversation he and Tony had held.  It had not been friendly, but at least he and Tony were still friends.  Bruce didn’t know how long he’d make it without a friend.  “Come on.  If you didn’t figure it out on your own, at least Pepper told you about how dangerous it can be for you on the outside if you’re with him.”

“Of course she did.”

Bruce looked at him for a long moment before shaking his head.  “Adrenaline junkie.”

Steve straightened a bit.  “Okay, I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t find the danger factor somewhat appealing.  But there’s more to Tony than his business.  Besides, didn’t they destroy his empire when they brought him in?”

A nearby inmate chuckled.  “Oh, hell no.”  He rubbed a hand over a badly scarred face and snickered.  “Stark let them  _think_  they took everything, but everyone knows he’s got at least seventy percent of his empire stashed away somewhere where they can’t touch it.”

“Wade, this was kind of a one-on-one conversation,” Bruce said firmly.

“Oh, like you’d be able to sum it up that fast, mean machine?” he said with a sarcastically polite smile.  Bruce raised an eyebrow, and Wade lifted both hands into the air in defeat.  “Cranky son of a bitch.”

Bruce shook his head before saying, “He’s right, though.  And Tony’s rivals know it.”

“Stop trying to make him run away.”

Bruce spun in his seat to see Tony strut through the door.  “Jeez, you scared me,” Bruce said.

“Good.  It serves you right.  My rivals probably think I’m  _dead_ , what with all the rumors Pepper’s been sending out for me.”  Steve doubted it, since Pepper had warned him of the same thing, but he didn’t want to get her in trouble.  “Come here, handsome.”  Tony pulled Steve over and shamelessly kissed his collarbone.  Steve flushed with embarrassment.

“Tony, I’m not big on public displays of affection,” he said.

“Well, you’d better get big on them.  This is prison.  Privacy is kind of a non-factor here.”

Steve flicked a look over to Bruce, and then at Pepper, who stood beside Tony with a neutral expression on her face.  “Uh…look, I trust you to protect me while I’m in here, but I’m starting to get a little worried about what will happen when I get out.  What  _will_ your rivals do to me if they see me as a source of information?”

Tony looked uncomfortable for a moment, then determined.  “Jack shit.  Because they know what I’ll do to them when I get out.”

“But you’ve never killed anyone.”

Tony grinned.  “That’s because my threats worked.  I never needed to act on any of them…but believe me, if I found the cause important enough, I’d follow through.”  He wiggled his fingers as he resisted the urge to smack Steve’s butt.  “And I have solemnly sworn to make sure you remain unharmed.”

Steve shifted slightly.  “Do we have to talk about this in front of Pepper and Bruce?”

Pepper cleared her throat.  “We’ll both find out just about everything you do anyway.  Bruce is his best friend, I’m his thought process, and you two are to prison as Jolie and Pitt are to Hollywood.  But I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, so…”  She held a manila folder out to Tony.  “…let’s get with the distractions.  This is your latest statement to the US government.  Read it before you sign it, please.  For all you know, I’ve written your firstborn child into there.”

Tony laughed.  “It’s cute that you think I’ll have children, Pepper.”

“ _Read it._ ”

Tony let out a world-weary sigh and looked at Steve.  “I guess it’s time I stopped showing you off.  Anyway, you know what they say about absence.  Go on, handsome, go do something that doesn’t involve me.”

Steve smiled, nodded, and made his way over to the prison library.  He was not about to let his brain atrophy while he was here.  And he was going to start by learning everything he could learn about Tony’s enemies through the newspapers and public reports.

He wasn’t going into this unprepared.  In the event of a worse-case scenario, Steve was going to make sure he knew exactly what he was doing.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Steve is a badass...who happens to enjoy building blanket forts.

Steve watched the scene unfold with thinly veiled interest.  Now  _this_  was much more like what he’d been expecting from prison.  Two very angry men facing off against each other, ready for blood, barely exchanging words before going in for the kill.

“Your ass is mine, you greasy little shit!”

“You think I’m  _scared_ of you, Logan?”

Actually, Scott would have been smart to be afraid of him.  Logan had put inmates in the infirmary before.  But honestly, the fight wasn’t a surprise to anyone - the two of them always seemed to be at each other’s throats, and today, it had gone from not-so-playful sniping to prison brawl.  The last thing the block needed was a riot, but if these two started in on each other…

Steve watched carefully, assessing the situation.  And, more importantly, the best way to stop it before it got out of control.  Logan lunged first, fingers hooked, lips curled in inconsolable rage.  Scott dodged the rush easily, but wasn’t so fortunate when Logan swept one leg out, causing him to crash to the floor.  The two of them grappled for each other’s necks, trying to strangle, punch, kick, anything to deal damage.  Nearby prisoners gathered in a circle, cheering for their preferred inmate…and Steve was almost content to just let them finish each other off, but the guards would be coming soon, and the entire cell block would be punished if they had to break this up.

Really, the solution seemed obvious.  Tony would have said it was an awful idea, but Steve was not going to bed hungry tonight.  Of course, one of them might pull out a shiv…but hey, he’d jump that hurdle when he got to it.

He pushed his way through the audience and approached the fighters.  As soon as he saw his opening, he shoved between them, fisting his hands into the collars of their shirts, and shook them both vigorously, like medicine bottles.  “Knock it off, right now!” he barked.  “You trying to get Thanos down here?”  Truthfully, he was surprised he could hold both of them; Logan was a big man and Scott was good at escaping.  But though they struggled against his grip, neither could break it.

“If you know what’s good for you - “ Logan started.

“What?  I’ll let you go?” Steve asked, narrowing his eyes.  “If  _you_  know what’s good for  _you,_  you’ll walk away from Scott the second I let you go.  Because the last thing any of us need is a lockdown!”

Scott glared at Steve.  “Oh, please.  I can see right through you.  You’re stopping us because we might ruin your date with Stark,” he snapped.

Ugh.  He still wasn’t used to his personal life being everyone’s business.  “Actually,” Steve said, turning a firm glower on him, “I’m stopping you because if the guards come down here, we’ll all pay the price.  But you and Logan get to pay it with interest.  Now, I’m going to let you both go.  And you’re going to turn in opposite directions and walk away.  And if you don’t, I’ll rip some sheets, hog-tie you both, and deliver you to Lehnsherr on a silver platter.”

Both men paused to consider that threat.  If there was anyone that hated them more than they hated each other, it Eric Lehnsherr.  He was firmly against the crimes that had put the two of them in prison, and tended to make it known - violently and with great prejudice.

Steve relaxed his grip, and while Scott and Logan continued to glare, they made no movement.

“Hey!  Turn and march, remember?” Steve demanded.

“Yeah, yeah,” Scott said sourly, leaving while muttering profanities under his breath.

Logan would not be so easily dissuaded.  “Get between us again and I’ll use what’s left of you to paint my cell,” he said darkly.

“No you won’t.  You know better than that.”  He pointed.  “Go cool your heels, Logan.”  Steve then turned to the crowd.  “Come on, guys.  Break it up.  When the guards get down here, nothing ever happened, okay?  And then we all get dinner and break tonight.”  The gathered all expressed their distaste, but slowly broke apart and went back to their business.

Above, on the second-floor walkway, Pepper watched him with a smile.  “Wow,” she said to herself.  “That’s quite a man you’ve got there, Tony.”

 

* * *

 

“Tony, put that down.”

Tony grinned and shook the bottle back and forth.  “Don’t be such a sourpuss,” he said.  “Do you know how much trouble Pepper must have gone through to get me this?  Aged twenty-seven years!  You just can’t ignore single malt that’s been aged twenty-seven years, Steve.”

“Watch me,” Steve said, pulling him over and reaching for the bottle.

“Hey now!  I asked for this to celebrate how long we've been together.”   _And still not having had sex, but that’s hardly something to celebrate,_  Tony finished silently.  And if he was a little bitter about that, no one had to know.  At least he wasn’t taking it out on Steve.

Steve leaned back and crossed his arms.  After looking at Tony for a moment, he chuckled indulgently.  “All right, all right.  Have it your way.  But no more than two drinks, okay?”

“I was only planning on the one.  I’m going to milk this bottle for everything it’s worth,” Tony said.  He settled down on his bed, opened it, and took a long sniff before setting the rim to his lips and letting a tiny amount drain into his mouth.  “Oh, damn, that is wonderful.”  He licked his lips and passed it to Steve.

“No cups?  Barbarian,” Steve said, grinning.  Nevertheless, he took a small drink, shivering slightly at the burn and passing it back to Tony.  “So that’s what you’ll taste like in twenty-seven years.”

“Maybe it’s what I taste like  _now,_ ” Tony said, leaning towards him.  Steve swallowed hard as Tony brought his mouth closer.  “You’d know if you’d kiss me.”  Steve considered the situation…then leaned forward into Tony, locking their lips together.  Tony’s grunt of surprise told him he wasn’t actually hoping to get anywhere with that one, but he certainly wasn’t about to fight Steve off.  Steve kissed a bit rougher than he’d anticipated - lots of shameless nipping, and he wasn’t afraid to kiss slow, pull back, and lean in for something hard and demanding.  Tony’s head spun.

Where had this man  _been?_   He was  _perfect._

“There.  Now, no more complaining,” Steve said as he pulled back.  Despite his levity, he sounded breathless.  “We kiss a lot.  You just want kissing to turn into foreplay, and you want  _that_  to turn into sex.  You can’t fool me, Tony.”

Tony did his best to look innocent.  “I can try,” he said.

Steve chuckled and nuzzled gently into the crook of his neck.  Tony sighed and leaned sideways to allow him easier access.  “All good things to those who wait,” whispered Steve, and with the promises behind those words, Tony was paying a lot more attention than before.  “But we’re going to miss dinner if we don’t get moving, so I would suggest you stand up and follow me to the mess hall.”

“Tease,” Tony said accusingly.

“Oh, be quiet.  You love it.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t make this fair.”  Tony leaned over and nipped his ear.  “You and I have chemistry that would make romance directors jealous.  It think it’s this setting; not very ‘happily ever after,’ is it?  Maybe that’s why there’s a lack of…mmn…”  He squeezed Steve’s backside.  “…plot progression.”

Steve groaned indulgently and shoved him in front.  “What you’re after slows the plot _down_ , Tony.  Now, march.  Dinnertime.”

 

* * *

 

Pepper sat on the corner of the desk, clicking away at Loki’s laptop.  “Thank you as always, sir,” she said pleasantly.  While she was not crazy about him, ‘pleasantly’ was the only way to communicate with him if she wanted to continue using his computer.  “I know you’re not overly fond of us inmates; I appreciate you letting me use this.”

Loki curled his lips in obvious irritation.  “You are aware of my relationship with one of the prisoners here.  As I see it, I have very little choice but to lend you the use of my electronics.”  He leaned against the wall and watched the screen like a hawk.

“I just want to see how Tony’s old rivals are doing,” she said pleasantly.  “It won’t take me any more than an hour.”  Pepper craned her neck slightly to give Loki a pointed look.  “An hour which you could easily spend in the arms of a certain blonde who doesn’t know his own strength?  Just pointing that out.”

Loki narrowed his eyes at her.  “He is in the yard right now.  It would be compromising if I sought him out.”

“I guess so.”  Pepper continued clicking away at the keyboard until something caught her eye.  She clicked the link, scanned the page, and swiftly made her way deeper into the website it had offered.  Loki watched her suspiciously as she muttered about hidden links and ghost files, but his suspicion turned to exasperation when she groaned at the screen.  “Well, damn,” she concluded.

“What has upset you?” he asked, though his tone indicated he didn’t care.

“Tony’s rivals figured out that he didn’t die.  I’d been seeding those rumors for months, and I was almost positive they’d taken the bait.”  She continued reading.  “And apparently, they know about Steve.  They don’t know that Tony is romantically involved with him, but they are aware that the two of them are often seen together.”

Loki rolled his eyes.  “Is that all?  They know that Bruce and Tony are friends, but you don’t seem especially worried about him.”

“Because thanks to his drug days, Bruce can turn into a raging death machine and crush in the skull of anyone who tries to kill him,” Pepper snapped.  “I’ll thank you not to repeat that to him.  Anyway, Steve is far from helpless, but I’m not sure how he’d do against Stane’s gang.”  She shook her head and sighed.  “I might run damage control for Tony, but he’s really fallen for Steve.  I’m not sure what I can do under these circumstances.”

“Disregard their emotions and break them up,” Loki said coolly.  “It is a prison relationship.  It will only last as long as it takes for one of them to stab the other.”

Pepper turned to regard him with a dark expression.  “You know nothing about them,” she responded.  There was an icy edge to her tone, and it did not escape the guard.  “The more time they spend together, the more I think Steve is actually doing  _good_  for Tony.  He’s more aware of the effect he has on other people now, and he wields that accordingly - keeps the dangerous inmates in check, and pulls the downtrodden ones out of their holes.  And Steve?  He practically does your job for you.”

“Are you hinting at some sort of awful prison-messiah cliché?” Loki asked.

“No,” Pepper said briskly, scooping up her ever-present file folder and breezing out of the room with one last, pointed, “But the dynamic around here is changing, and Steve has a lot to do with it.  That kind of news will make it outside…and when it does, Tony had better be ready to keep his promises.”

 _More importantly,_  she thought darkly, _Steve had better be ready to face that kind of trouble._

* * *

 

There was something about Tony, and Steve had to admit, even though he was a criminal, he was drawn to him far more powerfully than he ever thought he would be.  The little things he did - a hastily thrown-together candlelight dinner (the candles were electric, as the prisoners were not allowed to have any sources of fire), a slice of MacHarth Bakery’s world-famous cheesecake on his birthday, standing up to the guards when they tried to rough Steve up for breaking up a fight between inmates - they made Steve feel wanted.  Special.  The moments he forgot he was in prison had becoming increasingly more frequent; most days just felt like strangely scheduled dates.

Like this one.

Steve stood at the door to Tony’s cell, watching him carefully.  “It’s been months, Tony,” he said softly.

“Huh?” the shorter man asked, fumbling with his sheets.  He and Steve had been building a blanket-and-pillow fort, just because they could.  Both of them had found it childish, simple, and perfect.  The other prisoners gave them incredulous looks, but neither of them particularly cared.

Steve clarified.  “Since I was incarcerated.   _Months._   I really thought they’d have cleared me by now.”  He turned to Tony, a subtle glimmer in his eyes.  “You know, the guards are going to make us take that down.  Heaven only knows what we could be up to in there.”

Tony missed his expression.  He laughed.  “Oh, yeah.  Because you and I have such awful track records; we’re clearly the most violent two in here.”

Steve grinned at him.  “Not quite what I was getting at,” he responded.  After watching Tony struggle a moment longer, he chuckled and walked over, taking the fabric from him.  “Here, you’re never going to keep the wall up that way.  You’re tying it under, and using its own weight against it.  What you want to do is tie it over, and use the weight to keep the knot tight.”

“I knew that,” Tony said, letting Steve do it.  “So what were you getting at, then?”  Steve looked up at him, his expression pregnant with purpose.  Tony’s eyes lit.  “Oh.”

“Hm,” Steve said, standing and admiring their handiwork.  “The fort looks good.  Think it’s soundproof?”

Tony sidled up next to him and kissed his neck.  “Sure it is.  So that means you can really let loose in there.  Howl away, handsome.”

Steve pushed his face away, raising an eyebrow.  “ _No._ ”

“All right, all right.  I solemnly swear to keep the noises down to a bare minimum.”  Tony headed towards their cave of cotton, then looked over at him.  “You’re serious about this?  Because I’ve got to be honest, if you work me up, I’m  _really_  not going to want to stop.  You’d have to pry me off of you with a crowbar.  Or kick me in the nuts.  And I really don’t want that.”

Steve’s raised eyebrow lowered, and he let his expression turn seductive.  “In the fort, loverboy.”

Tony ducked behind the sheets.  Steve could hear fabric rustling as Tony discarded his shirt, and he wasted little time in following him.  Their tiny, private sanctuary was deceptively roomy on the inside, giving Steve enough room to step back and appreciate Tony’s half-naked body in full.  He really was a thoroughly impressive specimen.  That arc reactor…well, it was strange, but Steve didn’t really mind it.  He stepped forward and ran experimental fingers over the metal, down to Tony’s sternum, and Tony hummed in appreciation.  “You’ve never touched me like that before,” he said approvingly.

“Get used to it,” Steve responded, letting his other hand drop to Tony’s waistband.  “Off with the pants.”

“You’re pushy when you get down to it,” Tony said, shucking off the offending trousers.  “I like it.”

Steve kissed his collarbone, stroking his hands down Tony’s sides.  He leaned into Tony’s caresses, helping him remove the fabric barriers between them, choking back a slight moan when he was stripped completely bare.  Tony backed up to look him over, biting his lip and grinning at what he saw.  “Sweet, hot damn.  Yes.”  Steve shifted uncomfortably.  He was unused to people admiring his body so shamelessly.  As if to put them on equal footing, he hooked his fingers around Tony’s waistband and pulled down, exposing him.  Tony growled, smiling widely, and pushed Steve down onto the bed.  Steve’s jaw slackened slightly, and desire coursed through him when Tony moved between his hips, kissing his chest.  “Yes,” Tony murmured again, drinking in Steve’s quickened breaths.  “Tell me you’ll let me top.  Damn it, Steve, I want to be inside you so much.”

Steve swallowed hard.  “Uh…well, I wasn’t really thinking about who - ”

“Then don’t worry about it now.”  Tony kissed his way down Steve’s body.  “I’ll take care of everything.”  And though Steve would never detail it to anyone who asked, Tony certainly took care of everything.  Thoroughly.

Steve writhed beneath his skilled fingertips, covering his own mouth in a desperate bid to smother his own cries.  He’d been intimate with others, but no one had ever taken such care with him; Tony responded to every noise he made, every movement, and knew just how to encourage Steve to satisfy him in turn.  Desire burned through every nerve in his body, and when Tony first pressed his fingers inside him, he stopped caring who could hear them.  He just wanted his body to accommodate the intrusion, so Tony could stop preparing him and actually make love to him.

“Tony, _faster_ ,” Steve pleaded.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” was the low, desperate response.

“I don’t care.”

“You will when it hurts.”  Tony dropped his head down and nipped at Steve’s hipbones.  “Nice and slow, Steve.  I’ve waited this long.  Another ten minutes to make sure this blows your mind…”  He sucked at the join of his thigh gently.  “…hell yeah.”

Steve gripped his shoulders, trying to encourage him up.  “Tony,” he panted.

Tony slowly kissed and nipped his way up his body, stroking Steve’s length and positioning himself somewhat clumsily.  It took him a moment to align their bodies, but once he did, he kissed Steve’s neck and whispered, “Last chance to back out.”

Steve shook his head.  “ _In.  Now._ ”

Tony grinned and obeyed, pressing into him inch by blissful inch.  Steve groaned and arched into him, biting his lip.  Every movement was a bolt of pleasure, a twist of pain, and he  _needed_  it.  Steve hooked his legs around Tony’s, panting slightly.  Tony slowly moved forward, pushing their bodies together, and Steve sank his teeth into his lip to stop himself from moaning.  Tony lowered his lips to Steve’s ear to murmur, “Come on.  Let them hear you.  Let them… _mmmnn…_ damn it, Steve…”  He thrust forward firmly, grinding against his lover, and Steve was quickly reduced to cursing quietly, clawing into Tony’s back and incoherently begging for more.

As Tony picked up speed, he started growling curses and promises against Steve’s skin.  Every time Steve canted his hips, it was sheer euphoria.  Their kisses, hard and desperate, were the sweetest Tony had ever enjoyed, and even though he knew everyone who walked by their cell could hear them, the whole experience still felt… _intimate._   He felt close to Steve in a way that reached far beyond their flesh.  Tony couldn’t be bothered enough to care about what that meant right now.  He was almost there, moving more frantically than before now, and Steve responded in a way that made him know he was close.

“Tony..!  Tony!!” Steve moaned, biting into the pillow to muffle his cries.  Tony could feel his body tense and shudder as he came, smearing their stomachs with warm, white mess.  Steve’s gasps turned to whimpers of delight as Tony peaked his hips, shivered, and let pleasure overtake him.  Steve’s nails dug in so hard, Tony knew there would be a set of crimson half-moons on his back, but it was worth it.  The parted lips, the eyes screwed shut in ecstasy, the barely-contained moans…yes, it was definitely worth it.

It took Tony a moment to come down from everything - Steve’s body under his, Steve’s release sticky on his skin, Steve’s impossibly blue eyes looking at him like nothing else mattered.  He had to resist the urge to swear again.  He never wanted to move.

Steve stirred slightly.  “It’s hot,” Steve said into the pillow.  Well, damn; so much for not moving.  Tony wasn’t quite sure if that was a complaint, but he pulled out and flopped onto his side all the same.  “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.  Damn, Steve.  You are just…unbelievable.”  He kissed his forehead.  “In a good way.”

“Right back at you,” Steve panted.  He turned to face Tony completely, wincing slightly.  “Think we can sleep until the guards make us take the fort down?”

“Sure.  And then we can take a shower.”

“That sounds like a good plan,” Steve said, leaning his head into Tony and closing his eyes.  “You’re a smart man, Tony Stark.”

Tony laughed and rested an arm on Steve’s shoulder, gently caressing the back of his head with one broad hand.  As peace crept in to replace the adrenaline, and his pulse gradually slowed, Tony thought about how wonderfully near Steve felt.  Almost as if -

His eyes widened when he realized what was happening.

_I’m falling in love._

He looked at Steve, now asleep, and wondered when exactly that had happened.  Well, he’d said some things that had never applied to previous lovers.  He’d promised not to hurt him, he’d promised to protect him…yeah, but that didn’t mean he was in  _love!_   Steve was a handsome piece of ass, nothing more.  And it was beneficial to both of them to keep him happy.  If a relationship made him feel normal, why not give him that and enjoy the benefits during?

Tony looked at Steve and sighed softly.  No amount of lying to himself would make him believe this one.  Maybe he could nip it in the bud…stop himself from falling all the way.

When Steve shifted slightly, a small smile on his face, and Tony knew he didn’t want to.

He’d keep falling until he hit the bottom, and he wouldn’t regret a thing.

“Well, shit,” he murmured.  “Pepper’s going to  _love_  this.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Steve's innocence is proved, and he would much rather have Tony than a fat settlement check.

**Two months later**

* * *

Steve still wasn’t entirely sure this was real.  He stood numbly as the warden approached him, boxy jaw set and eyes narrowed.  ”Well, Rogers, it seems you’ve been cleared of your crimes,” he said gruffly, scratching at one side of his perpetually reddened face.  ”You’ve got an escort waiting for you outside - they’ll be taking you to the court to discuss your settlement.”

“Settlement?  Already?” Steve asked weakly.

“Of course.  They screwed up; it’s only natural you receive some kind of monetary apology.  And you’re a respected member of the community, so they want this swept under the rug as soon as possible.”  His eyes flicked over to the adjoining hallway, where Tony leaned anxiously against the opposite wall.  ”But I guess this is kind of bittersweet news for you, hm?  Rumor has it you’re more than just his bitch.”

Steve’s eyes shot downward and he nodded.  ”Yes, sir.”

“I even heard he said he loves you.”

Steve’s blood sang at the memory.  Tony had seemed terrified when he told him, his face almost comically distorted with fear…and after the confession had been made, Steve let Tony know just how strongly he returned the feeling.  ”He did, sir.  And no one’s got the nerve to try and knock him down for it.”  Steve sighed.  ”He’s a strong person.  I don’t suppose the court will settle for placing him under house arrest instead of paying me..?”

“How should I know?  I’m no judge.”  He pointed to the door impatiently.  ”Guards will see you out, to ensure no one attacks you.  Enjoy your freedom.”

Steve nodded and walked through the door, where he was immediately met by Tony’s mournful brown stare.  The blonde smiled weakly, but it didn’t last long.  Tony’s face fell.  ”So, it’s true, then.  You’ve been pardoned.”

“Yes.”  Steve looked far more miserable than a man on his way out of prison had a right to.  ”I’m going to talk to the judge - see if I can get your sentence changed. I know you meant it when you told me you loved me, and I love you too.”

Tony shivered slightly.  ”I still can’t believe I said that.  It’s not like me at all.  Pepper keeps telling me she’s known for longer than I have, but I still can’t believe it.”  He sighed, considering this, then winked at Steve.  ”Well, I suppose there’s always conjugal visits, huh?”

Steve had to chuckle.  ”We’re not married, Tony.  But I’ll definitely visit you.”   _If I have to,_  he finished silently.  He was serious about talking to the judge, though he wasn’t exactly sure how the legal system treated cases like theirs.  Tony was a high-profile criminal, but he was nonviolent, and his behavior in prison was pristine. “I’ll see you later.  I swear.”

Tony sighed and pulled him close.  ”You’d better.”

 

* * *

 

Steve looked around his home and smiled.  Everything was in order, mostly because his best friend had kept everything in order while he was away.  ”Thanks, James,” he sighed, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.  ”I really don’t know what I would have done if I’d come home to a disaster area, all covered in dust and stuff.”

The brunette scoffed.  ”Wow!  Not even a year in jail, and I’m no longer ‘Bucky.’  They really hardened you up, didn’t they?”

Steve laughed.  ”I missed you, Bucky.”  He glanced over at his kitchen and sighed. “I suppose everything’s gone bad, huh?”

“No.  Pretty much all of your canned goods are still okay, and there was a lot of stuff in the fridge and freezer that hadn’t been opened.  But some shopping is definitely in order.  What’s your bank account looking like these days?”

The blonde’s face fell.  ”Pretty pathetic, between paying my lawyer and accepting service-based compensation instead of monetary.  My boss is giving me my old job back, but I’m living the glamorous 99c Store life until my first paycheck.”

“Oh, no you’re not,” Bucky said, shaking his head firmly.  ”I’ll buy your groceries for you until then.  And I’m sure you’re going to be showered with more food than you can store; everyone here loves you.”

Steve had almost forgotten - but yes, he  _was_  loved by pretty much everyone in his corner of the community.  He was helpful, active, generous…good heavens, it felt like he was stepping into a strangely alien life, comfortable yet bizarre.

According to Bucky, the public outcry at his arrest had been tremendous.  No one believed he was trafficking drugs, not even the few neighbors who weren’t overly fond of him, and their repeated protests had caused an accelerated investigation.  It had taken a long time, as the real criminals had thoroughly covered their tracks, but eventually, the truth had scratched its way to the surface.  Bucky said he’d never seen the authorities process a case so fast.

Steve inhaled deeply as he walked outside, loving the smell of fresh-cut grass and his neighbor’s morning glories.  He wondered what Tony would think of his little piece of suburban paradise.  Probably he wouldn’t care for it; Stark was a man who loved his luxuries.

“Steven, hello!!”

Steve looked across the street at one of his neighbors and beamed.  ”Jean!” he called excitedly.  ”It’s been ages; I’m so happy to see you!”

“You’re happy to see me!?   _I’m_  happy to see  _you_ ; I’m so relieved you got out!!  Well, at least you look healthy - they feed you well in there, right?”

“Sort of.  There’s no fresh fruit in prison; it’s all canned or frozen.”

Her face fell.  ”Unacceptable.  I’ve got some pears in the fridge; would you like one?”

Steve’s eyes lit with joy.  ”Miss Gray, I can’t think of anything that would make me happier right now.”  She was gone and back in moments, bearing a massive green fruit that Steve would have sworn had been given growth hormones had he not known Jean only bought organic.  ”Bless you, Jean.”  He took a bite, and immediately remembered why being outside prison was so much better than inside.

Bucky waited patiently nearby, smiling.  ”Want to go shopping and get your own fruit, Steve?”

“Yeah!”  Steve gave Jean a loving hug, then ducked into Bucky’s car, grinning from ear to ear.  ”I missed this.  I missed this so much.  I was actually getting comfortable in prison, if you can believe that, but this…this is home, and I am so happy to be back.”

“I’m glad to hear it!”  Bucky started up the car, pulled out of his driveway, then glanced over at Steve as he asked, “So, what kind of service can you expect from them?  Massive remodeling, bodyguard service..?”

Steve turned red.  ”Oh.  Well, about that…”

 

* * *

 

Tony would have been crazy to have turned the offer down.

House arrest for the next fifteen years with the man he loved versus another twenty in prison, provided he did not break his barrier even once.  It must have taken some strenuous negotiations on Steve’s part, or a major sacrifice in terms of the government’s compensation, but amazingly, it had gone through.

The neighbors weren’t entirely sure what to think, but their trust in Steven Rogers was pretty deep - the more he assured them that Tony, though a criminal, could be trusted, the more they seemed to accept their relationship.  If anyone was surprised that he was gay, they certainly didn’t show it.

“He  _must_  be influential.  What is he, a politician?”

“No, sir, ex-military.”

“Hm.  Well, I have no complaints.”

Obediah Stane grinned coldly at the file, glancing over photographs and printed reports.  All the information he needed to bring down Tony Stark and rake in the money he’d squirreled away…and, of course, all the information he needed to crush Steve if he got in the way.

“Him being out of prison makes him so much easier to kill,” he hummed pleasantly.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which comfortable domesticity is interrupted by the first specks of shit hitting the fan.

“Morning, Jean!" Tony called, waving to her as he crossed the lawn for the morning newspaper.  His ankle monitor glowed red, an irritating reminder to him and everyone in the neighborhood that he was obliged to stay in the yard.

Well, at least he was with Steve.  It was strange, being out of prison, and even more so for him than for his lover because he wasn't used to sweet suburban life.  He was used to moving from state to state on a bi-weekly basis, traveling in style, two reliable bodyguards at his side and a hot piece of eye candy on his lap.  Suburbia was a little...tame.  No, a _lot_ tame.  He thought it would drive him crazy until Steve cleared out a room and presented it to Tony as his 'secret laboratory.'  Now, when he wasn't with Steve, he was in there, tinkering away.

He’d already used a mad mismatch of spare parts to build a small vacuum that scooted around on its own - far better than those stupid Roombas; this one had a much bigger storage unit for dirt and debris, it filtered out heavier items for later inspection (it had already saved three dollars in change and a small screw that went into the back of Steve’s favorite recliner chair), and could run three times as long without requiring a recharge.  Steve loved it.

"Morning, Tony!" she called back, breaking Tony’s train of thought.  "How's Steve?"

"I think he's finally kicked the cold!" he said cheerily.  “It’s impossible to keep that man down; I practically had to duct tape him to the sofa!”

“Don’t I know it!  About two years before his stay in prison, he got the flu - I don’t know how anyone can do yard work while they’re busy trying not to throw up, but he did it!  In the end, Bucky and I bullied him onto the sofa and did all his chores for him.”

“That was nice of you,” Tony replied, smiling.  He could picture Steve doing that - stubbornly clinging to a rake despite his sunken eyes, his burning cheeks and forehead.  “I’m going to bring him his paper; you have a good day!”

“You too!  Tell Steve I say hi!”

Tony nodded and went back into the house.  Steve, still slightly damp-eyed and red-nosed, beamed at him.  He stood at the stove, looking adorable domestic in his pajama bottoms and apron as he patted a skillet of hash browns with his spatula.  “Breakfast’s almost ready.  The bacon’s already on the table.”

“Thank you,” Tony answered, kissing him on the cheek.  “Jean says hi.  You know you shouldn’t be cooking, right?”

“Oh, hush.  I can’t sit and do nothing, Tony - I just can’t.  It would take something a lot nastier than a cold to keep me down.”

Tony smirked.  “So I heard.  Jean said she and Bucky once had to order you back into the house so they could do your yard work while you got over the flu.”

“Oh, she told you about that?” Steve asked, laughing and turning slightly pink.

“She did.  Now, why don’t you sit down, and I’ll finish cooking these?” Tony asked.

“No thanks.  I’d prefer they be edible when all is said and done.  You can’t even make a Hot Pocket without something going wrong.”

“That’s not true,” Tony grouched, though it most certainly was.

“Sit.  Eat.  I’ll be over there in two shakes, I promise,” Steve soothed, nuzzling Tony’s cheek gently.

“Then by all means, shake it, baby,” he hummed as he sat at the table.  “And hand over the funnies.  You always spoil them for me if you read them first.”

 

* * *

 

“How are we going to do this, boss?”

Obadiah tilted his head, examining the camera feed.  Fetching the paper.  Cute.  Tony appeared to have gone thoroughly domestic, but he knew better - that man was the king of the opium trade, waiting for his chance to break away and access the untold millions he had hidden away.  That man would retire to Bora Bora and leave Steve a heartbroken mess - not that this bothered Obadiah any.  He cared precisely nothing for the blonde soldier, and would mow him down without losing a wink of sleep if he got in the way.

“Zoom in on the window,” he instructed, leaning on one hand.  “What are they up to?  And when are we going to get internal cameras in there?”

“We’re probably not, sir.  Both Tony and Steve are fully capable of beating the living shit out of anyone we send in there to plant them.  And since Tony is _always_ there…”

Obadiah snarled and rolled his eyes.  “Do I have to come up with everything on my own?” he demanded.  “They’re looking for some people to remodel the kitchen, aren’t they?  That’s what Steve was telling their pretty little neighbor?”

“Yes - oh!  Oh, well, of course.  Why didn’t we think of that?”

“This,” Obadiah spat, leaning forward and watching Tony and Steve eat breakfast, “is why _I’m_ in charge, and you idiots just do the heavy lifting.”  He waved a hand dismissively in the direction of his underling.  “Put flyers up.  Make sure one of them is near their house.  Just have them invite you in, and once Tony’s vulnerable, I’ll move in and do what I need to in order to get the information I need.”

The man speaking to Obadiah nodded, knowing exactly what Obadiah usually constituted as ‘what was needed.’  “And once you’ve obtained that information, you’ll kill him?”

“That’s the plan,” he answered.  “And the all-American boy, too, if he gets in my way.”

“Sounds like a plan, boss.  I’ll let the boys know.”

 

* * *

 

Steve hefted the groceries in his hands, pursing his lips to whistle for Tony.  He could never hope to get the whole lot in one trip, but there were a lot of frozen things he wanted to get put away as soon as possible.  Tony answered the call, meeting him at the gate - his stopping point - and took the armload himself, pecking Steve on the cheek.

Steve grinned.  “Were you really a feared drug lord?” he asked.

“Feared?  Not especially.  Moneyed?  Out my sweet little ass.”  He grinned and headed back into the house, wiggling his bottom temptingly despite being burdened by enough groceries to feed an army.  “Damn, baby, you stocking up for Doomsday?”

“Christmas, actually.  I host a Secret Santa block party every year,” Steve called, grabbing the rest of the haul and using his elbow to shut the trunk.  “I’m hoping to get the kitchen done before then, though.  Any luck finding a good remodeling service?”

“Yeah!” Tony called back.  “Let’s get everything put away first, though!”

Steve and Tony spent the better part of ten minutes rearranging everything in the fridge and freezer in order to fit what was, according to Tony’s observations, going to be the single most delicious holiday dinner in the history of history.  Once everything was put away, the two of them grabbed a beer each, clicked the bottles together in a gentle toast to nothing in particular, then sat down at the table.  Tony proudly displayed a single sheet of bright yellow paper.

“Found these among the advertisement flyers in the mailbox today!  Some new company is trying to get on their feet - they promise the lowest price of anyone who services the area.  If we can prove someone else is charging less than their estimate, they’ll go even lower!”

Steve’s eyes lit up.  “Nice!  But if they’re new, we won’t have too many reviews to go by…they could do an awful job.”

“True,” Tony said, nodding.  “But I’m still a rich man, Steve.  If they do a bad job, we rip them limb from limb on the internet - leave a scathing review and recommend them to no one - and then I tap into some of my secret accounts and we get this place redone overnight.  I’ll bet if I flash a bit of extra money their way, they’ll be sure to put in some extra effort.”  He smiled, a hint of nostalgia on his face.  “Look, my business started small - it might have been an illegal one, but it was still a small business.  I’m a big fan of getting go-getters onto their feet, you know?”

Steve nodded, thinking about it.  What Tony said made sense to him.  He, too, was a believer in building up the underdog.  And it was always nice to be in the log of someone’s first few customers - often, you didn’t just get the service you paid for, you also made some real friends.  He smiled and nodded.  “All right.  Let’s go for it!  We’ll call them up at the very least, and see what they can do.”

 

* * *

 

Not even a week later, the Rogers-Stark house was alive with the sound of construction.  The crew of four obviously knew what they were doing; the countertops had been replaced with stunning efficiency, each edge level and beautifully shaped.  They had politely argued against the sink Steve had been eyeing, insisting it would throw off the kitchen’s dynamic.  After caving to their opinions, Steve had been ecstatic - they had been right, and he loved the new sink almost instantly.  They were constantly vacuuming the dust and mess up, a polite gesture given Steve’s horrible dust-borne allergies.  He was already thinking of ways to promote them.

Tony looked around the kitchen with a cheery nod.  “Looks great, doesn’t it, baby?” he asked Steve.

Steve nodded excitedly.  “It really does!  And they work so fast; I don’t think this company is going to have any problems getting started.”  He headed into the kitchen, politely scooting past one of them to grab some drinks from the fridge.  “Oh, help yourselves to some soda or beer, guys.”  Appreciative calls came from all four corners of the kitchen, and Steve squeezed back around the table in order to hand Tony a Pepsi.  “Here you go.”

“Thanks.”  He nuzzled Steve’s ear enticingly.  “Why don’t you and I duck into the bedroom?”

Steve turned pink.  “Tony!!” he protested, pushing him gently backward.

“Oh, come on - they won’t care.  And you know we can trust them.”

Steve shifted nervously from foot to foot before setting his own soda down.  “Nothing that involves getting naked, Tony.  I mean it.”

“Don’t worry.”  Tony led the way, waving a quick ‘be right back’ to the workers, who all grinned knowingly and made cheeky remarks.  Steve scoffed at them, though his pink cheeks told a different story.

Once they were in the bedroom, Steve spun Tony around for a kiss - and was shocked to find him scowling.  “Tony!” he protested, pulling back.  “What’s the matter with you?”

“He must think I’m a fucking idiot, sending someone I’ve met before,” Tony growled, pacing over to the window and leaning heavily against the sill.  It took Steve a moment to realize Tony was trembling.  He didn’t like that - Tony rarely showed signs of fear.  “I mean, it was a long time ago, but hell.  Honestly, it’s not even that much…a couple million; he’s got to be worth more than that by now…”

“Tony?  Tony, what are you talking about?” Steve demanded, his voice saturated with concern.

Tony spun around to face Steve, jaw tightened to white.  “I recognize one of our workers.  It took me a while to pin down from where, but I recognize him.”

Steve’s eyes widened in surprise.  “You do?  From where?  Prison?”

Tony’s laugh was a muffled, bitter bark of forced amusement.  “I wish.  No, Steve - he’s from a rival gang.”  He pointed to the flickering glow set into his ribs.  “Obadiah Stane’s gang.  It’s because of that son of a bitch that I have _this._ ”

Steve’s eyes widened in horror.  “Wha - but..!  But they’re…why are they in here, then?”

“My guess?” Tony asked bitterly.  “To get the information that will lead them to the last few millions I have stashed away.  And to kill me once they have it.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Tony Stark is a reckless son of a bitch because no one threatens Steve and gets away with it.

 

Steve swallowed hard, sweat beading on his forehead and pulse pounding in his temples.

Tony had explained to him that simply eliminating the underlings would do them no good - as long as Stane was still in a position of power, their life together was in jeopardy.  Obadiah Stane, he had snarled with clotted hatred, was a determined son of a bitch who drilled at his targets until he got what he wanted from them...and usually, by the time he was done, if they weren't dead, they were too damaged to get revenge.  Fortunately, Tony had retained much of his knowledge from his criminal days, and had hatched a counterattack plan so startlingly fast, it had left Steve a bit dizzy.

Of course, hindsight being 20-20, he would have protested Tony's brilliant idea had he realized that 'locate his NC and eliminate their botheration at its ignominious source' meant 'follow the house repair guys back to their base of operations, then locate Obadiah and put a bullet in his head.'  Steve had followed them, though, on a car trip that lasted all of twenty minutes.  That such a powerful criminal was located so frighteningly close horrified him; every fiber of Steve's being swam in a sea of fear.  He had debated not telling Tony...but the pleading look in those pools of brown had broken his defenses.

Well, at least their kitchen looked like something out of  _House Beautiful_.  He would die with a model home; that would make it much easier for people to sell.

"I thought you said you didn't kill people," Steve protested heavily, pacing around Tony with trembling feet.

Tony eyed his house arrest anklet, which was blinking like a strobe light, and swallowed hard.  He had maybe ten minutes to get this done -  _maybe._   "I didn't.  Not then.  But this is personal," Tony responded, scowling as he tightened the hood of a fading black sweatshirt over his head.  "He wants to kill me and take my money, fine, whatever.  That's my problem."

"What does - "

Tony held up one hand to indicate silence, using the other to smear motor oil over his face.  "He crossed a line when he dragged  _you_ into this.  Sending thugs into your house, scoping it, testing it.  Analyzing you based on decorations and photos you've never thought twice about - that's what he does, Steve.  He finds your weak point and he exploits it."

Steve's expression tightened.  The idea that he might be driving his formerly peaceful ex-drug lord to murder caused him pain - and then he took another look at that thought and would have giggled, had the situation not been so dire.  Honestly, what had his life become?  "Tony, look, you don't have to do this.  Not for me."

He turned to scowl at Steve, his eyes disconcertingly green.  "What will I do, then?  Run?  Give myself up?  Dye my hair and change my name?"  Tony shook his head.  "No.  This is happening, Steve.  I owe him for the hardware in my ribs anyway."

"Tony, this is risky.  Too risky."

"How do you figure?  We're just a couple of desperate junkies looking to settle up so we can buy more drugs."  Tony slapped a hand over his own baby-smooth face.  "Hell, I shaved my most discernible feature.  Without my facial hair, how easy is it to recognize me?  Honestly."

Not easy, Steve had to admit.  Tony had taped a thick layer of cotton batting over his chest to hide the glow of his arc reactor, and with green, sunken eyes (the color came from contacts, and the dark circles from the fact Tony had not had coffee in forty-seven hours, a record for the Terroir-chugging genius), oil smears (scraped from the parking lot, which Steve found disgusting but ingenious), and his trademark facial hair gone (he now sported uniform five o'clock shadow), Tony looked like a completely different person.

"I don't want you to get hurt, Tony," Steve said softly.  "Not for me."

"News flash, baby - he'll hurt me whether I'm in his place or flat on my ass at yours.  At least this way, I have a chance at being able to live the rest of my life at your side, in peace."  He kissed Steve's nose, leaving a smear of brownish-black on his forehead.  "Now get messed up and pull your hoodie up."

Steve looked in the mirror and frowned.  "He'll recognize me."

" _He_  will, but his goons barely know you.  By the time Stane figures out who's in his office, his brain will be juggling hot lead."

"Poetic," Steve said dryly, ruining his complexion as instructed, then half-covering his face with his own green camo garment and slouching uncomfortably.  He could tell by the look on Tony's face that he looked the part, and wasn't sure whether this satisfied or terrified him.

Tony walked up to the den and approached the guard with a muffled clearing of his throat.  "Hey," he murmured hastily.  "We're here to pay up.  I owe Sticky."  'Sticky' was Stane's nickname on the streets; he hadn't given it to himself, but rather it had been graciously bestowed on him by his desperate customers.

The guard smirked and tilted his head.  "Fuck off.  No one gets in without - "

Tony's eyes snapped wide, and he began to tremble.  "No!  No, no, no, you need to let me in  _right now!!_ " Tony wheezed, lunging forward and clinging to the man's lapels.  "I can't go another day, I can't!  I can't!!"

Steve started to slink up, a dangerous look on his face.  Not for the first time in his life, he was grateful for his medical studies - he knew how to replicate opium withdrawal symptoms.  He began sniffling and twitching.  "What's with this guy, Julian?" he asked, plucking the name from thin air.

Tony turned to him with frantic eyes, not breaking character for even a moment.  "He's not letting us in, Adam.  He's not gonna let us in!!"

Steve aimed a toxic glare at the guard.  "You'd better," he seethed, head jerking convulsively.  "Three fucking weeks cold, I can't do this any more.   _Three fucking weeks._ "

The guard pulled a knife and dug the point of it into Tony's belly, scowling.  "Touch me again and I'm giving the floor a new paint job," he warned darkly.  "You pathetic bastards make me sick, I swear to God.  'Sticky' is in his office.  You can talk to one of the collectors like everyone else, then get your fix and get your asses back to whatever hole you crawled out of."

Tony shivered and backed into Steve, shaking his head 'no.'  "No, no, no...no, gotta pay Sticky.  Gotta pay him."

"Relax," Steve mumbled, watching the guard with wary, aggressive eyes.  "We'll get the stuff, Julian.  We'll get it and go.  Don't need to see Sticky if someone else'll take care of it."

"B-But..!"

"Come on.  Five minutes and we'll be in fuckin' Candyland."

The guard smirked condescendingly.  "Ooh, look at you!  The brains of the operation!" he mocked.  "Go on, get inside and pay up.  And don't let me see your ugly faces on this shift again."

"Fuck you," Tony stammered, letting Steve guide him through the door.  Inside, Tony peered at Steve and continued muttering about their next fix, and how good it was going to feel.  Steve smiled crookedly and nodded, but in truth, he could barely keep a straight face.  He was counting the seconds until the police came to pick Tony up, and -

Suddenly, he felt like his heart was in his throat.

The police.

His mind raced at a thousand miles an hour.  Was that what he was planning..?!  If so, he was going to have to grovel for years before he was forgiven.

Tony slipped quietly into a side hall, dragging Steve behind him.  His eyes flicked back and forth as he took in details - where people were walking, laughter from this direction, the subtle click of the butt of a gun against a belt buckle from that direction.  He swallowed hard as he identified their target door.

"That way," he said softly.

"Tony," Steve whispered furtively.  "What happens when we kill Obadiah?  What will his workers do?"

"I doubt they'll be too torn up.  I hear the dental here is shit."

"Tony, I mean it!" Steve snapped quietly, spinning his lover to face him.  "They'll try to kill you, won't they?  You're hoping the police will show up in time to stop that, aren't you?"

Tony peered at him for a moment before shaking his head and sighing softly.  "Yeah, they'll probably try to kill me.  But in case you haven't noticed, handsome, I'm a tough one to get rid of."

Steve's expression tightened into one of frantic anger.  "We're getting out of here right now."

" _You_  can.  I can't say I'd blame you.  But I've got a job to do."

"Damn it, Tony, I - "  Steve slipped immediately back into his drugged-up persona when an armed thug walked by, scowling at them like something nasty he'd stepped in.  A bald, angry-looking man with dark eyes walked behind him, growling to both the guard in front of him and behind him that he'd better see results soon, or he'd find a good reason to shorten his employee payroll.

Steve's chest twisted in a horrible cocktail of fear, anger, and hatred.  He didn't need an introduction to know who this man was.

"Obadiah," he breathed, so softly Tony barely heard it.

Tony nodded.  "Yeah," he responded, reaching into his pocket.  "Obadiah."  
 

* * *

  
Obadiah ran a highly illegal business, one where half his employees wanted him dead and the other half only protected him because the money was good.  As a result, he expected a certain amount of things to go wrong per day.  A good week, in his book, was one where only a few bullets were exchanged.

So when Tony Stark walked through the door to his office, gun leveled at his face and clueless little blonde bitch in tow, Obadiah resigned himself to a shitty one and leaned back in his chair, sighing.

"Who's the dumbass that let you in?  Riley?  Dave?  I'll bet it was Dave.  That moron couldn't tell the damn presidents apart, let alone my enemies."  Obadiah smirked at Tony, drumming his fingers on his desk.  "Hm.  Shiny.  Better be careful with that thing, Stark.  They've been known to kill people."

"Funny, that.  I don't think I'll ever regret anything less," Tony responded, priming it to fire.  Steve tensed behind him, and Obadiah noticed it.

"Oh, lookie there.  I don't think your little Boy Scout is made of the same metal as you."  Obadiah locked eyes with Steve and opened his mouth to speak...only to get a bullet in the shoulder for it.  The crack of the gun rang in his ears for a moment before he looked up at Tony, furious and startled.

"Don't look at him.  Don't you even  _think_  about it.  Your fight is with me."  He primed it again.  "And that's where you went wrong.  You brought Steve into this."

"Someone gets sentimental once he gets his rocks off.  Funny.  Usually works the other way around," Obadiah quipped.  He took a new bullet in the other shoulder for it.

"Do you think now is the best time to be a dick?"

Obadiah kept him talking, slow and calculated - he was no idiot, after all; he had a gun of his own in his hand most times of day, and his office was no exception.  He lifted it then, pointing the shiny black barrel at Tony's chest.  "Here's a question for you, Stark - do you think you could kill me before I blasted a hole in that pretty blue hardware of yours?"

"I think I could give it a damn good try," Tony seethed, wrenching away from the protective hands Steve set against his shoulders.  He could hear Steve's soft, frantic groan, pleading wordlessly for him to stop this and get them both out of there alive.

But there was no time for that.  Because suddenly, the room filled with the sound of guns being fired, and wood being splintered, and a door being kicked open.  It smelled like blood and cartridge powder, and for a horrifying moment, Steve felt his consciousness slip back to his military days.  He was surrounded by explosions, so loud and deep that he could barely hear the commands of his superior officers.  He could feel the weight of his gear, the cold press of his gun...

Then Steve was back in the present, and everything was moving in slow motion, but far too fast at the same time.  Obadiah's guards were in the room, and police as well, and people were bleeding.  It took him all of five seconds to realize what the picture was missing.   _Holy shit, where was Tony?_

He took two determined steps into the fray, set on clearing the mess and finding - maybe saving - the man he loved before something hit the back of his head with an audible 'crack.'  Steve then dropped to the floor, slurring out a weakened 'what?' and peering around with desperate confusion.  The fight was a blur, but everything seemed still and peaceful on the floor.

The last image his brain really took in was Tony lying five feet away, blood and some unusual metallic liquid leaking from a hole in his chest.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Tony and Steve find out what the jury thinks about their defying Tony's house arrest.

Tony awoke with a confused mutter.  The world seemed stretched and wispy, like strands of cotton had threaded through his vision.  That was new.  He hurt, but the pain seemed far away, a distant drumbeat in a chest that was maybe his, maybe not.  That was also new; chest pains were usually far more immediate, and meant that it was time to modify or change his arc reactor.  It took him a while to remember everything that had happened, and once he did, he'd rather have forgotten.  Tony wasn't entirely sure what the consequences of his actions would be.

One thing stood out amidst his jumbled train of thought, though - Steve's face.  Mostly because he was right there, leaning over the bed.  One of his eyes was bloodshot, but he was beaming at Tony all the same.

"How are you feeling?" Steve asked softly.

Tony reached up to touch Steve's cheek, noting the IV tube trailing from his hand.  He shook his head minutely.  "Like I've been shot."

"I'd imagine that happens after someone shoots you," Steve said softly.

Tony swallowed hard.  "My arc reactor was broken," he rasped.  "How are they keeping the shrapnel from my heart?"

Steve stroked his hair back.  "I rushed home and got your spare."

Tony chuckled with weak pride.  "And you thought it was stupid that I had one.  Who's laughing now?"

"Stop talking," Steve said softly.  "You'll hurt yourself."  Tony closed his lips, but pointed to Steve's eye.  "I got hit over the head.  Mild concussion, but nothing too serious.  I'm much more worried about the legal repercussions of what we've done."  At Tony's widened eyes, Steve nodded as if it were perfectly obvious.  "The police aren't too happy with us, Tony.  You for obvious reasons, and me because I'm an accomplice, or an accessory, or whatever 'a' word they feel like throwing at me."

Tony found his voice again quickly enough.  "That's bullshit!  Our lives were in danger."  He regretted his outburst; it hurt like hell.  Tony twisted uncomfortably and found the morphine tube connected to his IV.  "Okay, come to papa.  Now that I'm awake, this is starting to hurt  _real_ fast."  He went for it with shaking hands, but found himself unable to focus.

Steve shrugged, then gently depressed the plunger for him.  "I know.  But unless a lot of people send a lot of e-mails, your court date is one month after you're released from the hospital.  Mine is in two weeks."  He stood.  "And visiting hours are almost over, so I need to go before the police drag me out."

Tony shook his head.  "Don't go."

" _Stop talking_ ," Steve stressed, leaning down to kiss Tony's cheek.  "Rest."

Steve turned towards the door and began walking.  His hand was on the doorknob when Tony finally thought to ask if his objective in visiting Stane's place had even been accomplished.  "Steve!  How's Obadiah?  Did he survive?"

Steve looked over his shoulder and shook his head.  "No.  Between you and the police, he barely made it to the hospital.  His drug operation doesn't look like it's going to survive, either.  Don't be too happy about that though; I'm pretty sure they're tacking aggravated assault onto your list of charges."

Tony fell back against his pillow with a smile on his face.  He was pretty sure that news should have upset him, but the morphine had just hit, and everything felt  _good._ "He's gone.  Good."

"Tony, what part of 'aggravated assault' didn't you get?"  Steve sighed.  "Never mind, it's the painkillers talking.  Look, I'll try to see you again tomorrow, but I don't know if I'll be able to."

"I love you, Steve," Tony called.

"I love you too, Tony."

 

...

 

**Two months later...**

Steve held his breath as he watched the lead juror stand, neatening his lapels and clearing his throat.  He didn't know what he was going to hear, and that terrified him.  So much had happened in two months - a petition had emerged, headed by Jean, to drop the case against Tony.  It hadn't passed.  Tony had slipped into critical for a short while, scaring the living hell out of Steve.  Besides that, the case had been postponed once, one of Obadiah's few remaining flunkeys had attempted to stab him, the police had accused Tony of wanting Obadiah's drugs and money and had added drug trafficking to Tony's charges, Steve had escaped imprisonment by the skin of his teeth...and now he was about to find out whether or not Tony got to stay outside with him.

He swallowed hard.  He didn't want Tony to go to prison.  He loved Tony.  They'd changed each other; he brought out the ex-criminal's soft, sweet side, and Tony brought out his sense of adventure.  And if he was staring at the juror with enough intensity to make him thoroughly uncomfortable, it was only because he wanted to celebrate a victory today, not bemoan a defeat.

The man began speaking, and the tension in the courtroom was tight and heavy.  "In the face of the presented evidence," he began, "We the jury have ruled Tony Stark, on the counts of aggravated assault, drug trafficking, violating the terms of his house arrest, and reckless endangerment, not guilty."  Tony gasped in relief, slumping back in his seat.  Steve lifted his hands to his face, trying to hide the beaming grin that was forming.

The judge nodded, though his lips were pursed in a clear indication that he disagreed.  That was the beauty of American justice, Steve supposed - a stickler judge was hopelessly outnumbered by a group of people who would have done the exact same thing if it had been  _their_ peaceful, happy life in jeopardy.  "Very well.  Given the jury's decision and the police department's requests, Mister Stark is hereby sentenced to one hundred hours of community service, to be completed in conjunction with the remainder of his house arrest.  The details of this service may be worked out with the local law department.  There will be no fines, nor jail time.  Do you wish to contest the sentence, Mister Stark?"

Tony shook his head.  "No, Your Honor."

"Then I hearby declare court adjourned."  The gavel slammed, and the court burst into a flurry of excited noise.  Scattered complaints pertaining to the fall of society’s moral fiber could be heard here and there, but were quickly met with soul-curdling scowls.  People moved to congratulate other people - mostly neighbors and friends congratulating Tony - but the noise meant nothing to Steve.  He shoved his way through the crowd, muttering apologies, and stopped three feet away from the most damnably brilliant man in the world.

Tony turned to face Steve, beaming.  “Well hello there, gorgeous,” he said.

“Hello yourself,” Steve responded, closing the distance and pulling him into a hug.  “You’re a crazy, criminal son of a bitch, you know that?”

“Ah, but I’m  _not_ a criminal.  Not anymore.  The jury said so,” he pointed out gleefully.  “Which is good news for you, because that means you don’t have to feel guilty about sleeping with me.”

Steve sucked in a nervous breath and looked around.  “Can you  _not_ say stuff like that in public?”

Tony feigned horror.  “Are you…ashamed of me, my darling?” he asked, pressing a hand to his chest.  “I should have known.  You delicate suburban types just aren’t meant to mix with the crazies like me.”  His lips turned up into a smile as he pulled Steve closer.  “Too bad for you.  I’m not letting you go, I hope you know that.”

“I’d chase you if you tried.”  He rested one hand on Tony’s shoulder.  “It’s weird to think we met in prison, isn’t it?”

“No.  Still pretty real for me, especially since going back only  _just_ stopped being an immediate threat.”  Tony pulled him close and pressed his lips swiftly against Steve’s.  “Now, I think we should get home, let the neighbors who couldn’t make it to the courtroom know the outcome, and start planning a block party.  If they don’t have one planned just in case, anyway.”

“Oh, I’ll bet they do.”  Steve chuckled and grasped Tony’s hand in his, squeezing tightly.  “But going home sounds like a great idea.  My life returning to normal would be…really pleasant.”

“Not boring?”

“ _Not_ boring.”

“Then I probably shouldn’t tell you about the - “

Steve kissed Tony to silence him, a warning spark in his eyes.  “If it’s a joke, just don’t.  If it’s real, I’m going to pretend you never said anything, and you’re never going to talk about it or do anything pertaining to it again.  No more prison.  No more rival gangs.  No more court dates.  I’m making an honest man out of you, Anthony Stark, or I’m going to die trying.”

Tony smiled and shook his head.  “Don’t worry, handsome, it was a joke.”

Steve nodded and started walking outside, Tony practically glued to his hip.  He felt light, and he could tell by Tony’s giddy step that he felt the same.  Still, there were significant questions to be asked.  “So, Tony, are you thinking about where you’re going to serve out your community service?”

Tony groaned.  “Don’t remind me.”

“It’s important.  The animal shelter is understaffed; you could volunteer there…”

 

…

 

Tony visited the police station, discussed the terms of his containment, and started his service sentence within the week.  He had left for his work with some trepidation, but having been assured that prison was still an option, he’d gone without a fuss.  Coming home, however, he was significantly less cheery.  Steve, standing over the stove and stirring something that smelled distinctly Middle Eastern, smiled at him.  “How was your first day?” he asked.

Tony groaned in response.  “I got bitten by a Chihuahua, peed on by a Doberman, and humped by no less than three dogs of undeterminable blood.  I think I’d rather volunteer at the homeless shelter.  At least you can press charges if  _they_  do any of that.”

Steve laughed, walked over, and pulled him into a lazy, loving kiss.  “Poor baby,” he hummed.  “I think it’s proof that we weren’t meant to own pets.  Why don’t you go take a shower?  Dinner will be ready by the time you’re out.”

Tony sniffed and gave an approving noise.  “Smells  _great._   What is it?”

“Rogan josh,” Steve answered.  “I got the recipe from my new cookbook.  It looked good, and I think we both deserve lamb, don’t you?”

Tony nodded, eyes lighting.  He’d never heard of the dish, but lamb was lamb.  “Yeah, I’m not about to say ‘no’ to that.  I’ll be cleaning up if you need me.”  He gave Steve a squeeze, then strutted off to the shower, feeling significantly less miserable.  Though his wash was uneventful - he’d been hoping Steve would join him - but coming out to the smell of hot curry and fresh bread was worth it.  “Steve, you’re amazing!” Tony called as he pulled into his pajamas.  He would have donned his work clothes, but they smelled in spite of his best efforts to rinse them at the shelter.

“Tastes better,” he called.  “Get out here so we can dig in!”

Tony obeyed readily, joining Steve at the table and devouring his meal with gusto.  Spicy, sweet, milky, and sharp all at the same time, Tony made a mental note to take a peek at the recipe later - this rogan josh stuff might have sounded strange to him, but he would probably swear by those flavors at some point in his life.  Naan, he’d had before, but knowing Steve had made this particular batch by himself, from scratch, somehow made it taste better.

“Hell yes,” he said happily, scooping the last few streaks of sauce out of his bowl with one finger and licking it clean.  “Good food, and nothing left on the schedule but bed.”  The implications of his own words dawned on him, and Tony’s eyes lit with a deep, lusty spark.  “You’re not too full for that, are you?”

Steve cleared his throat, as he usually did when he was flustered.  “Jeez, from zero to horny in point-five seconds,” he muttered…but he could feel the heat of interest building in his own chest, and that look in Tony’s eye  _always_  did positive things for him.  “Equally impressive and terrifying.  Can I have a few minutes for dinner to settle, at least?”

“Of course,” Tony responded sweetly.  “We can watch some TV.”

They did, for all of an hour.  Some home-improvement program Tony didn’t pay much attention to.  Then Steve, much to his shock, leaned over and thumbed Tony’s nipple through his shirt, lowering his voice to a whisper and saying, “I’m ready for bed if you are.”  Tony was a bit surprised at his unusual level of seductive daring, but he certainly wasn’t about to protest it.  Wordless, he lifted Steve’s hand to his lips and slid the tip of his tongue over his fingertips.  Steve grasped the remote, turned the television off, and sauntered towards the bedroom.  Tony tried to tell himself Steve didn’t put a bit of extra sway in it for his benefit, but he knew better.  Steve was endearingly unusual like that - embarrassed by the mention of intimacy, but 110% committed once it had been initiated.

Tony sucked in an excited breath when Steve pushed him down to the bed, climbing over him and kissing along his neck.  He took a moment to admire Steve’s body - long, strong limbs framing his, the streamlined strength of his muscles standing subtly out beneath his clothing.  How had he landed this man, honestly?  It defied logic.

“What are you thinking about?”

Tony looked up sharply at the question.  “How hot you are,” he answered simply.

Steve chuckled softly.  “Stop thinking about it and help me get undressed.”

Tony didn’t need to be told twice.  He grasped the hem of Steve’s shirt, tugging upwards and growling in approval at the chest beneath it.  Steve worked busily over the buttons of Tony’s pajamas, dipping his head to kiss each of Tony’s nipples, stopping between them to ghost a feather-light breath over the arc reactor.  Tony hissed in pleasure as the tender skin around it tingled in response.

“ _Shit,_ ” he breathed, carding his fingers through Steve’s hair.  “Tell me you’re topping.  I really, really want you to top right now.”

Steve nodded in response, tugging open the tongue of his own belt, then undoing the drawstring of Tony’s pants.  “That was the plan.”  He continued fondling Tony’s chest as they both worked to get themselves naked, occasionally becoming distracted and expressing that distraction through passionate lip-locks.  When Tony pulled off Steve’s underwear, he groaned in low, needy approval.  Steve’s arousal, dark with blood and drawn tight, was in that moment the most perfect thing he could possibly imagine, and he’d never wanted anything so much in his life.

Steve knew it, and he hurried accordingly.  Once they were both completely bare, he set to sucking red marks to the surface of Tony’s skin while feeling blindly for the bedside table.  He eventually found the drawer he was looking for, and he fished out a small, clear tube of lubricant.  Tony’s voice rose to something near a whine when he heard the cap click open, making Steve bite his lower lip.  Tony hooked his ankles around Steve’s thighs, opening himself to Steve’s fingers.  The slick, insistent press of Steve’s digits made him swallow enthusiastically, and once the first two slid inside, his eagerness was rewarded.  Steve was both careful and experimental, finding the places that elicited the strongest reactions and using that knowledge shamelessly.

It didn’t take long for Tony to roll his hips into Steve’s touch, panting and shivering.  Steve got the hint, and within moments, he was bracing himself with one hand and using the other to hold Tony’s hips steady.  Tony moaned as Steve pushed inside, face screwed up in mild-melting desire.  They both froze for a moment once Steve was fully seated, Steve to make sure Tony was comfortable, and Tony to catch his breath.  He hadn’t realized he’d been holding it until just then.

“You okay?” Steve asked.

“Better than okay,” Tony responded, drawing air into his lungs, then seesawing his hips beneath Steve’s.  “Oh,  _fuck,_ Steve, yes.   _Move._ ”

Steve was a bit surprised, but he did as Tony instructed, angling forward and rolling his body into Tony’s.  The effect was immediately noticeable, a pink flush spread over Tony’s skin and his cock jerked with need.  The moment he confirmed a lack of pain and discomfort, Steve clutched Tony’s shoulders and thrust forward, relishing the shout of pleasure it tore from Tony’s lips.

Tony tossed his head and squirmed as Steve moved inside him, hands flying up to his back in a death-grip.  He dug his fingertips in, feeling the cording and relaxing of Steve’s muscles as he moved and the slow heating of Steve’s skin as their exertions fired in his blood.  They moved in frantic unison, mouths tight against anywhere that seemed right.  Tony knew his collarbones would be decorated with bruises, and Steve’s pectorals would be the same.  But love bites seemed unimportant in the face of friction and heat, and the feeling of his own pre-come beading against his stomach.  Every now and then, one of Steve’s thrusts would drag over his prostate, and the blue-hot shards of ecstasy dragged Tony’s conscious mind down until he was little more than a moaning, squirming mess beneath Steve.

Steve’s back tightened and his shoulders rounded as his orgasm rushed up on him.  Holding it back took every ounce of effort he wasn’t throwing at Tony…and there wasn’t much to spare.  He was determined to come at the same time as Tony, even knowing how unlikely it really was.  Steve reached between them, smearing the pearled mess over the head of Tony’s erection and tugging him in time to his lunges.  Tears welled at the corners of Tony’s eyes as he moaned a breathless litany of praises, and in moments, Steve could feel him rut into his hand, skin fluttering and throbbing as he came.  He broke his own focus at the hot rush of semen over his hand, burying his face in the crook of Tony’s neck and keening as his own climax stumbled his train of thought.  He continued moving for a moment afterward, still milking Tony’s length while doing his best to coax aftershocks of pleasure from both of them.

When it became apparent that they were both too tired and spent to carry on, Steve withdrew and flopped to the side, wrinkling his nose amusedly at the mess on Tony’s stomach…and his hand, he remembered with a half-hearted ‘ick’.  “Hang on,” he chuckled, rolling out of bed and walking to the master bathroom.  He ran the sink warm, washed his hands, and returned to Tony’s side with a wet washcloth.

Tony sighed, face the very picture of contentment, as Steve cleaned him up.  “You take such good care of me.  I’m definitely keeping you.”

“Jokes, now?  Really?” Steve asked, though his voice was painted with affectionate amusement.  Once Tony was satisfactorily clean, he slid back into bed, pulling him close and breathing in his scent - metal, musk, and right now, sex.  “Your timing is questionable.”

“Some would say the same about your taste in men,” Tony chuckled, looking up at Steve with unshuttered love in his eyes.  “Kiss me.”

Steve grinned.  “And if I don’t?”

“I’ll push you out of bed.”

Steve laughed before stroking one palm over Tony’s cheek and sliding their lips together.  Their kisses were always everything he wanted - chaste, deep, passionate, sweet, loving, mischievous - no matter what kind they shared, Tony always made it amazing.  He wasn’t sure, but he at least hoped he did the same for Tony.  Once they pulled away, he sighed and draped one leg over Tony’s, using the leverage to tug him gently closer.

Tony let himself be pulled.  “You know, at risk of sounding really cliché and Disney, I love you, Steve.”

Steve smiled warmly in response.  “I love you, too.  Want to watch some more TV after we catch our breath?”

“I was thinking of sleeping, but TV would be nice.  I’m not actually all that tired.”

“Me neither.”

 

…

 

Pepper rifled through her mail, leaning back against the wall of the mess hall.

She was doing well in Tony’s absence, having become the new ‘head honcho’ there.  Outside information she could use poured in from all sides these days, and she was fairly confident that whether through her own virtue or through a bit of dirty work, she’d be the single most privileged inmate by the end of the year.  So she played rough sometimes.  Hey, that was how you came out on top in a place like this.

She was so distracted by her own plans, she almost missed the letter.

In a plain envelope with a generic stamp, it was easy to miss, but the handwritten address caught her attention.  Her eyes widened in recognition; that was most definitely Tony’s writing.  She tore the envelope open, pulling out the paper and raking her eyes over the words.  Pepper couldn’t help but worry; what kind of trouble had he gotten himself into now that he was out?  She was reasonably sure that the Stane case had been closed months ago…

 

_Hey, Pepper!_

_It’s been a long while since we’ve seen each other, so I figured I’d drop you a line, let you know how I was doing.  I’m sure you took over in my absence and are therefore busy as hell, though, so I promise to make it quick._

_As you’ve probably heard, I moved in with Steve, and he and I got ourselves into a bit of a scrape when we went after Obadiah.  You probably also heard that Steve and I were let off from the charges, and we get to keep living in suburbia rather than behind bars.  I’m sorry about that; I know how much you miss me.  Don’t roll your eyes, you know it’s true.  Anyway, I’ve run the offshore accounts through the system - you remember which one I’m talking about, I’m sure - and you’ll hopefully be pleased to know that I’ve set some of it aside for you.  Consider it payment for your years of faithful and unwavering service._

_Steve and I are giving the backyard a makeover this month.  This place really grew on me, and not just because I was forced to stay in it, either.  I’m looking forward to spiffing it up…but more importantly, I’m looking forward to dropping some major marriage hints to Steve once we finish the yard.  I know it sounds crazy, but I mean it.  I kind of want to tell the whole damn neighborhood, but I’m sure one of them would let it slip…and besides, you get to know first.  Consider this rare inside knowledge a perk of being someone I’d call my friend._

_I’m going to get going now, but feel free to write back.  I want to know how you’re doing, too._

_\- Tony_

She smiled as she folded the letter, sliding it back into the envelope.  She would never have predicted Tony falling in love, and she  _really_ wouldn’t have predicted Steve returning it.  But hey, she’d been wrong before, and she certainly wasn’t about to question Tony’s happiness.  She hoped she’d be able to attend the wedding…at the same time, though, she hoped they wouldn’t postpone it just so she could attend.  She still had two years of her sentence left, after all.

She looked up with a pleasant smile as Natasha and Clint approached her, Bruce trailing close behind.  “You look chipper, Miss Potts,” Clint noted.  “Good news?”

“Good news,” she confirmed, handing him the stack of mail.  She flicked her eyes at Natasha as she stated, “I need you both to sort this stuff out for me during lunch, if it isn’t too much trouble.”

“Is it ever?” Clint asked, smiling lopsidedly.  “Tasha and I will - uh.”  He noted the look on Natasha’s face and quickly corrected himself.  “Natasha and I will make short work of it, I’m sure.”

“What about me?” Bruce asked.

She smiled at him, sweeping out an arm to indicate he go first.  “Well, if you could grab an extra helping of meatballs for me, I’ll see what I can do about getting you some guard-free time in your cell to work on that experiment of yours.  We still plan on using it to put some rain on Erik’s parade, right?”

He gave her an innocent look.  “Why, Miss Potts, you know I would  _never_ use my scientific mind to get back at the guards.”

“Good to know.  I’ll have a talk with Loki - believe it or not, I’ve been on his good side lately.”  It had been deceptively easy; anyone who was a friend of Thor’s was at least tolerated, if not liked, by Loki, and Pepper had gone above and beyond to make her way into both of their good books.  “He’ll be able to hook you up with at least an hour and a half, I’m sure.”

“Great!” Bruce responded energetically.  “Meatballs it is.”

Pepper walked into the mess hall, flanked by her three most faithful, as if she owned it.  She could feel the tide of conversation fizzle, rekindle, and turn, as it once had for Tony.  She allowed herself a small smile at the control she knew she wielded.  She’d seen it when she’d worked for Tony, yes, but it was different actually brandishing it.  It was potent, knowing that she commanded that level of respect…

…but at the same time, she knew the duty it implied.  As far as the guards were concerned, riots were now her fault, whether or not they started by her actions or someone else’s.  Block-wide punishments would net her the evil eye from all assembled prisoners, and people relied on her for just about everything.  Being the ‘leader’ in such a place meant shouldering all the responsibility, whether it was hers to shoulder or not.

A big burden.  But one she wore well, and with pride.

As she walked to her favorite table and settled in, she shot a quick glance at Natasha.  “Oh, silly me!  Before we tuck in, would you mind getting me some paper?  I’ve got a letter to write.”

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on my tumblr: http://talesfrommidgard.tumblr.com/post/26399256537/heart-in-chains-part-1
> 
> I spent three hours researching prison culture, slang, and dynamics for this fic. It was exhausting.


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